Stoutwell - Case 1: Out of the Red
by Raccoonfg
Summary: Officer Stoutwell, the second raccoon to ever join the ZPD, has finally gotten his dream job of working at Zootopia's Precinct One, only to find that he's still being held back by a traumatic past. But when a friend comes to him for help with a case that the police consider closed, will he risk what's left of his career, just to prove to himself that he can still be a real cop?
1. Chapter 1

"-beautiful day today in Downtown and the Savanna, so all you joggers enjoy yourselves, but be mindful of the other mammals on the sidewalk; nothing worse than getting trampled by a hippo while they're checking their fit-bit."

"Hah! I know exactly what you mean, Fred. Alright folks, we'll be back with the day's top hits, but first, a message from our sponsor."

"Hello, this is Tom Ivory. Do you want the very best in home accommodations, with fine restaurants and stores in easy walking distance? Of course you do. And that's why when you're looking for a condominium, you should look no further than the elegant properties of Ivory Estates. Because you're worth it-"

It took about three tries before Seth successfully slapped the off button on his clock-radio. Normally he would have left it on longer and enjoyed the soft warmth of his bed, but for the first time in a long time, he couldn't wait to get up. As far as he was concerned, today was better than any birthday or holiday.

After showering and grooming, which included the now normal routine of applying concealer and combing over the bare spots, he started a pot of coffee and put on his uniform while it brewed. Before walking out the door he took a quick check of his appearance in the mirror to make sure everything was in order. Shirt tucked, pants unwrinkled, tie straight, badge straight, hat straight; with everything in order he picked up his travel-mug of fresh joe, and briskly left his apartment.

Moments later he rushed back in, snatched a small cylindrical object from his kitchen counter, muttering "Cripes, of all the times to forget," as he stuffed it in his pocket and rushed back out again.

* * *

There are many stories to be found in Zootopia. Quite a few of them involving the officers of the Zootopia Police Department; The Tundratown Tanner, The Cactus Grove Riots, and even the now infamous Bellwether Incident, which concerned the ZPD's first rabbit police officer. However, this is not a story about the first rabbit cop, but rather a raccoon, and not even the first one, but in fact the second, Officer Seth Stoutwell.

* * *

The commute was longer than what Seth was used to when he was previously stationed at precinct four, but the feeling of pride overshadowed the long metro trip, as he had finally made it and was now among those who called precinct one 'home'.

Ever since he graduated from the academy, he had been collecting dust in the Records & Documents office in precinct four's basement, largely due to the captain there being less than confident in the idea of a raccoon walking the beat, but Seth was left with few alternatives, as all the other precincts declined on him when the list of graduates was circulated. At least precinct one was polite enough to inform him it was a matter of them already meeting their hiring quota for the year, and that he was more than welcome to submit an open request for transfer once a new opening became available.

He had actually gotten an approval nearly a year ago, but an unfortunate event prevented this from happening, postponing his re-assignment until today.

The lobby seemed massive, far bigger than the old brownstone building he last worked at. Officers of all species and sizes milled around, escorting perps, consoling civilians, chatting with colleagues. It was so much livelier than the slow crawl he was used to, he had to almost suppress a childish grin as he took in the energy of the place. Some of the officers took notice of Seth with passing glances, and he tried to acknowledge them back with a tip of his hat or a nod with his snout. 'Never underestimate the importance of a first impression' is what his father would always say.

"Ooo! You must be the new guy," Seth flinched with surprise as a boisterous voice caught him off guard. Leaning over the front desk was a chubby cheetah with the most cartoonishly happy smile on his face. "Wow, I still can't get over how many little guys we keep bringing on board."

"Ah-" Seth started to open his mouth in reply, but the big cat cut him off with a somewhat dramatic gasp.

"Oh! Oh, I am SO sorry. I didn't mean to insult you about your height."

"Heh," Seth shrugged it off. "As long as you don't make any cracks about me and garbage, we'll be fine."

The cheetah smiled with relief. "Well, allow me, Benjamin Clawhauser, to be the first to welcome you to precinct one."

"Thanks, uh, Ben?"

"Most people just call me Clawhauser."

"Ah. Well, glad to meet you. My name is Seth Stoutwell."

"Hm," Clawhauser looked thoughtful for a moment. "Why does that sound familiar? …You don't post on any Gazelle fan forums, do you?"

"Can't say I do."

Clawhauser shrugged, "Ah well, it'll come to me, I guess." He then picked up the box of donuts that was sitting next to him. "Care for a donut before hitting the bullpen?"

Seth reached out to take one of the sprinkled ones, but paused when he saw the look of concern on Clawhauser's face. The look tensed up more when he passed over to the cruller, and even further when he considered the cream filled. It wasn't until Seth settled on the dutchie that he saw relief in the cat's face. The two then bid each other a good day, and Seth continued on to the bullpen while munching on his donut.

The inside of the bullpen somehow managed to be even noisier and chaotic than the lobby, with the clamor of hoots, howls and guffaws filling the briefing room. Seth eyed the room for an empty chair and noticed a koala looking back at him, cocking his head for Seth to take the open seat next to him.

"New guy, huh?" the officer asked, with an outstretched paw

"Uh, yeah, transferred from Downtown." Seth accepted his paw-shake, while wondering how quickly the 'new guy' comments will get old.

"Oh yeah? I transferred from the Rainforest District last year. Don't think I've heard about a raccoon on the force, though, Officer..?"

"Stoutwell. And no, I was put on clerical detail since graduation, so I doubt you'd have heard of me."

"I know how you feel. My first year was spent on drunk tank duty. Anyway, I'm Officer Qantas," he jerked a thumb at the surly coyote sitting next to him, "and this is my partner, Officer Codler."

Seth leaned in to offer a paw to Codler, but the coyote just gave him a disinterested look and grunted something that passed as a 'hello'.

"Ahh, don't take it personal, he's just not a morning person. So have they given you any idea who you're partnered with? There aren't many around that're our height, so you might get paired with one of the wolves."

"Probably some goofball like Fangmeyer," Codler interjected.

"C'mon, he's an okay guy," Qantas shot back at his partner, and turned back to Seth, "but he does pull a lot of goofy faces, from time to time."

Seth chuckled. "I grew up in a part of Tundratown where there were a lot of wolves. I'll be fi-"

"Hey Hopps, you better not hog the seat this time!" Seth had only casually glanced at the source of the voice, but the second he saw where it came from his body tensed up. In a sea of blue he stood out with his bright red fur.

Red.

Seth struggled to control his breathing.

Red.

He felt like he was fighting his whole body for control, trying to keep everything under the surface.

Red.

Danger.

'Stop it. Stop!' He internally chastised himself while feeling the gravity around him slip away.

"Just noticed our local celebrities, huh?" Qantas' question snapped him back to reality, and he realised this entire time he had been tightly gripping the little cylinder in his pocket. His breathing immediately went back to normal.

"Hm?"

"Hopps and Wilde. You heard all about the Bellwether Incident, right?"

"C'mon Qantas," Codler groaned. "Every mammal with basic cable saw that stupid TV movie."

"Well they replaced Wilde with a badger, so maybe he didn't make the connection?" Qantas leaned close to Seth, "Apparently badgers test better with key demographics than foxes-" The koala paused and cocked his head to the side. "Are you shaking?"

Seth hoped that the tremors weren't noticeable, so he had to make up an excuse on the fly. "Er, kinda skipped breakfast on the way here, so my blood-sugar levels are probably low." He knew it was a fairly lame excuse, and the evidence of donut crumbs and fondant flakes from earlier didn't make him any more convincing, but the sudden entry of the biggest buffalo he ever saw was enough to draw Qantas' attention away from him.

"Alright, settle down," the buffalo bellowed in a deep and proper tone, as he took his place behind the podium. It wasn't hard for Seth to figure this was Chief Bogo, his new boss; he had heard a lot of stories about him during coffee breaks at precinct four. "It'll be a busy day for you all, so I'll try to be brief. First of all, we have been tracking an increase in drug related incidents in the areas of Downtown, Savannah Central, and Sahara Square, so I want you all to keep a keen eye open for any suspicious activities. Secondly, as most of you are aware, Officer Bjorn is on medical leave and will be undergoing heart surgery, so if you want to send your best wishes, Officer Clawhauser will be taking signatures for his get-well card at the front desk." Bogo gestured his hoof to the rear entrance, where Clawhauser stood, waving an oversized card with a cartoon of a sick bear on the cover. "And lastly, we have a new transfer at the station," Seth felt his mood recovering now. "But, as you all know I don't care much for introductions," various officers chuckled at what Seth figured to be an old in-joke. "So if you find time to introduce yourselves to him, he will be located in Records & Documents."

"Hah?" Seth's entire face went slack and his shoulders deflated.

"Ouch." Qantas said while sucking his teeth. Codler grinned and sniggered into his paw.

"Alright everyone, be careful out there." Bogo concluded the day's briefing and the room started to empty out. Qantas paused for a moment, looking like he was trying to find the right words to cheer Seth up, but in the end he shuffled out after his partner gave him a sharp nudge.

"There must be some mistake," Seth muttered to himself. "This is a- This is a mistake." Just then he realised the chief had already walked out the front entrance, so he picked up his mug and made a bee-line after him. "Uh, sir- Chief? Chief sir? Erm, Chief Bogo?" He was partway down the hall before the chief turned to look at him. "Hi, Chief. Glad to be on board, but, um, I believe there was a mistake in what you said during the briefing.

"No mistake. Officer Bjorn is in very serious condition," Bogo replied, and continued down the hall.

"Ah hah," Seth forced a smile and tried to keep pace. "I mean when you said I would be in Records, that, ah, is where you're… Mistaken." Seth tapered off as Bogo stopped and turned again, this time with a weary yet understanding look. "Y-you see, I transferred here to be put on active duty, not to be stuck in another basement."

"Well that won't be a problem as we relocated Records to the second floor. All new renovations, updated equipment, and a full window view. It's very lovely, you'll like it." Bogo's selling points did little to hearten Seth, and it clearly showed. Bogo sighed, "Listen, I'm not doing this to be cruel. It's only a temporary position until I am confident you are capable of handling yourself out there."

"But if you look at my file-"

"I have."

"Then you'd see I've been cleared-"

Bogo cut him off with a raised hoof and shuffled a file to the top of his stack of documents. After putting his glasses on he began to read from it, "Officer Stoutwell has displayed progress in his recovery and after serving the required minimum of eight months of evaluation and treatment, I am willing to approve his request to be cleared for active duty," Bogo then looked right at him for the last part. "At the discretion of his commanding officer." He then shut the file and tucked his glasses away. "I am responsible for the welfare of my entire force, which now includes you. If I were to ignore any reservations I have about trusting your condition in the field, I could be potentially putting you, your colleagues, and the public at risk. I cannot allow that. So until I am completely sure you are capable of handling the stress of active duty, this will be your current posting. Have I made myself clear?"

Seth wanted to find the right thing to say, something to convince Bogo, to turn this whole situation around, but he frankly had trouble convincing himself after that speech. So he softly nodded, murmured a "yes sir," and headed off towards the elevator.

"Officer Stoutwell," Bogo called after him. "You wouldn't be here if I didn't want you here. Remember that."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

Admittedly it was a rather nice office in comparison to the dungeon of mould and dust he was previously used to. On the right side of the room was a bank of high density sliding shelves. One the left was his new desk, a computer, a free-standing combination printer-scanner-copier, and a short row of filing cabinets. The cabinets continued under the wall in front of him, with the promised full-view window; as well a row of cabinets lined the wall behind him, with another window above them that faced out into the building's hallway. And for the decorative finishing touch, a potted ficus sat next to the doorway.

Spacious, modern, well lit.

"I hate it." Seth sauntered over to his new desk and saw a few envelopes waiting in his in-box; a small white one, and a bulky manila one. He flipped over the small one and saw 'To the Attn of Officer Seth Stoutwell' printed on it, with 'From the Office of Dr. Vanderquill M.D.' noted below. He opened it with an irritated grunt and retrieved a card from within. It was one of those Friendly Sunshine Greetings cards, with a painted picture of the sun rising over a farm field. On the inside there was a hand written message that said 'Wishing you the best on your first day in the field. – Evelyn Vanderquill'. Seth muttered "Yeah, thanks," and dismissively tossed it onto his desk.

The manila envelope contained all of the expected documents for new hires and transfers; health and life insurance forms, magnetic key card for the secured entrances, a page detailing his new office contact information, and a packet of new business cards with his updated phone number and email address. He shook the envelope to see if there was anything else, and a lone, blue, ZPD branded pen fell out and clattered on his desk.

A while after getting settled in and checking the latest bulletins and internal memos, Seth heard a clunk from the drop-off box attached to his open door. He turned, prepared to say hello, but only saw the backside of the rhino that dropped off the file, already leaving to get back to duty.

This would occur three more times over the next two hours before Seth emptied the box and closed the door shut with a kick. He knew it was petty to look at the situation so bitterly, but the sting of failed expectations just didn't sit well with him.

Later that afternoon, while making scans of the new hard-copies he received, he heard a soft tapping, but it was so soft he figured it must've been someone next-door hanging up a picture or something.

Moments later the same tapping occurred, so he swiveled around and saw a pair of rabbit ears bobbing just above the bottom edge of his window.

"Um, come in?"

The door slowly swung open and a little violet eyes rabbit officer walked in; a worn looking paperback book was clutched between her paws. It was pretty obvious to Seth who she was, as Qantas wasn't kidding about her being a local celebrity, but he figured it'd make for a better first impression if he didn't babble about how he already knew her name, or that her achievements were the straw that broke the camel's back after many years of his father pestering him about quitting bartending and taking a shot at the academy.

"Hi, I'm Officer Judy Hopps," she said with a big, bright, bucktoothed smile.

"Uh, hey, I'm Officer-"

"Seth Stoutwell, I know." He was taken aback by this, but Judy kept talking before he could actually react. "Clawhauser mentioned meeting the new transfer earlier, and he asked me if I heard of your name before, and I was like 'who hasn't heard of Lt. Stoutwell'?! Am I right?" Judy rolled her eyes and laughed, while Seth nodded in understanding.

"You mean my grandfather."

"Exactly! He was the first raccoon, and one of the smallest recruits to serve the ZPD. Not to mention his work in cleaning up the upper west side of Sahara Square, riot control duty after the verdict on the Boolomo trail, and single handily solving the Loftis Gallery heist!" Her rapid fire enthusiasm for his grandfather's achievements was a bit surprising for Seth, though it did little to boost his ego. "Anyway, I would've dropped by sooner, but I had to make a detour on the way back from morning patrol so I could show you this." Judy handed Seth the old paperback; the cover was cracked and some of the yellowed pages were pup-eared.

"Twenty-five true tales of the ZPD," he read off of the cover. "By David Marmot."

"I begged my dad to get me this for my twelfth birthday. He tried to talk me into the latest Farmer's Almanac, but I wouldn't budge. Oh! Right there! Stop!" Seth was idly flipping through the pages when Judy halted him. It was on a chapter titled 'The First and Only', and below the title was a black and white photo of a middle-aged raccoon in full dress uniform. He was familiar with this picture, as it sat next to one of his mom on his father's dresser. "The resemblance is uncanny, don't you think? I mean, he looks older, and a bit taller, but I think that's because he isn't slouching." Seth reflectively straightened his back at the remark.

"Yeah, I get that a lot from my old man... Uh, my dad, I mean."

"Did he ever try going to the academy?"

"Dad? Nah. He found the field of copyediting to be exciting enough. Course, most publications rely on computers these days, so he now runs his own newsstand in Tundratown." The irony didn't seem to reach Judy, as she just smiled and nodded.

"Well anyway, I think it's really exciting that I get to work with a legacy like you."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Seth chuckled as he handed the book back to Judy. "I'm more of a uniformed clerk, if anything."

"I'm sure you'll get your chance. You may not know it, but I started on parking duty." He knew.

"Honestly, at this point I'd be happy to take that job. Heck, even bylaw enforcement would be better than this…" He noticed the concerned look that crept over her face and realized he was being bitter again. "Sorry, it is nice to meet you and I-"

"Hey Carrots, are you done getting an autograph from your little friend? Bogo's going to bug us about 'tardiness' if we don't head back out on patrol." The hackles of his back quickly rose up in a wave at the moment he heard the now familiar voice. Seth's shoulders and neck tensed up into a ball of muscle, but Judy had glanced back at her partner before she could notice the change in the raccoon's demeanor.

"C'mon Nick, I thought you'd at least appreciate what it means for someone like Officer Stoutwell to be here. Even when change starts with you, it doesn't mean it has to stop there. You have to encourage to next rabbit, the next fox, the next raccoon, to follow the trail you made. Right?" Judy turned back to Seth; and while he used the time her little speech afforded him to try to look relaxed, he could barely nod in agreement as her partner strolled in.

Red.

'C'mon, keep it together.'

"I dunno Carrots, I just don't see any mammals getting as interested when you're number two. Sequels are always weaker than the originals, hey new guy?" Officer Wilder shot Seth a grin, clearly to show he was kidding, but it had other effects.

Teeth.

Red.

Teeth.

'Stop it! Just stop!' Seth felt like he was staring down an oncoming train. One that shone bright red lights, and made a terrible pounding noise as it surged towards him.

"Nick," Judy jabbed him sharply.

"What? I was just giving him a little first day ribbing. No hard feelings right?" Nick extended a paw towards Seth, "Officer Nicholas Wilde, but my friends call me Nick."

Claws.

Red.

'Please just stop. Please.'

Claws.

The train hissed and snarled, it's lights shining brighter, and Seth could only turn away in the hopes it would go away.

"Uh, yeah, nice to meet you both, but I, uh- I have a lot of work to get done by the end of the day," the poor excuse tumbled from his mouth as he made his way back to his desk, "A-and I'm really behind as it is, so-" For a moment he saw their reflection in his monitor, and saw Nick look a little offended as he retracted his unaccepted pawshake.

Never underestimate the importance of a first impression.

"Oh, sure, sure…" Nick replied, and nudged his partner. "C'mon Carrots, we should get back to work too."

"Right. We'll see you around, Seth," Judy said as they walked out. "Welcome to precinct one."

The moment the door swung shut behind them Seth's whole body went into rebellion. Muscles trembled. Joints twitching erratically. Breath ragged. Paws shaking. He started panting openly as he frantically reached into his pocket, and pulled out the small pill bottle within. Considering opening it for a moment, he slammed it down on his desktop in frustration and started to instinctively wring his left forearm.

"R-rainbow F-falls." He started mumbling to himself in a sputtered and broken voice. "G-glacier Falls." His breath and heartbeat started to slow again. "Snowball D-drive. Hailstone Street." His muscles calmed and eased up. "Blizzard Street."

He finally stopped speaking, wiped his snout, crammed the unopened bottle back into his pocket, and stared absently at the floor for a long, long time.

* * *

"Now arriving at- Blizzard Street," the pre-recorded voice of the Zootopia metro train chimed, bringing Seth out of a trance. He had been just staring at the grimy floor the entire trip, still lost in the memory of the day's events. With a soft lurch, the train came to a halt, and Seth hopped off his seat to shuffle out the doors with some of the other passengers. His lungs stiffened as they took in the cold air of Tundratown, and his whiskers twitched as a breeze of cold air flowed through the metro station. The fluorescent lights of the station's awnings shone off of the snow banks, illuminating the area in cool shades of blue and white.

He walked down the street of his old neighborhood; the shops were dark and silent, while the tenements vibrated with life and sound. Save or a few groups of timber wolves squatting around in packs, briefly eying Seth's presence while they sipped on cheap vodka and malt liquor, the streets were empty and devoid of traffic. One of the buildings that used to house the local arcade was all boarded up, with a graffiti tagged sign proclaiming that an exciting and new Ivory Estates development was coming soon, but that had gone up years ago, with no sign of anything new or exciting since then.

He stopped at a low rise apartment down the block; the wolves lounging around the stoop made way for him, some nodding and uttering brief hellos in Tundran.

"Privyet."

"Privyet, Seth"

"Kak dela?"

"Horosho," Seth replied as he fished for his keys. He had probably known most of these wolves since they were cubs, and picked up some of the Tundran tongue along the way, but he still wasn't that great at it.

The dim lights of the building's lobby hummed and buzzed. A cougar dressed in a suit and an old worn military coat was snorting nip off the back of his paw. His face brightened up at Seth's arrival.

"Ey hey, Seth! Kak zhizn?!"

"Hey Georg, I'm fine. You ah, got a little something on your paw there."

"Eh?" Georg feigned surprise and jokingly brushed the remaining nip off. "Heh heh. Didn't see nothing, my friend."

"Sure, sure," Seth chuckled sarcastically. "Yorgi around, or is he up to something I'm better off not knowing about?"

"Da nyet, navernoe," Georg laughed. "Is our Little Bandit asking, or the cop? Heh heh." Seth had known Georg and the absent Yorgi since they were all teens, and while they weren't really bad guys, they weren't the sort of mammals a member of the ZPD should be associated with.

"Alright, I get you. Uvidimsya, Georg." Seth waved goodbye and made his way up the main stairway.

"Do svidaniya, Little Bandit," Georg bellowed up the stairwell. "We should get together sometime, party like old times!"

Seth recalled the last time they partied 'like old times', he woke up in bed with a lion and lioness, with the word 'Prideland' written on his forehead. The upside was that lions cook a mean omelette, and the ink was water soluble.

He climbed up to the third floor and made his way down the hall. The various noises of crying cubs, shouting couples, and clashing music genres floated down the hall on a wave of eclectic smells. Eventually he reached the sixth door down and swung its door knocker twice. There was a moment's pause, followed by the clattering of locks being undone, and the door opened to reveal a bespectacled raccoon in his fifties.

"Hey Dad."

Seth's father smiled and waved him in. "You're just in time, the stew's almost ready. Come in, come in." His father locked the door after Seth had shuffled in. "I made cioppino, figured today called for something special. Was the ride here okay?"

"It was fine. It's always fine," he reassured his dad. "How was work?"

"Oh, can't complain. Though, I sometimes wonder if I should just ditch the newspapers and magazines to make room for more cigarettes and scratch-cards," his dad chuckled, "They're the only things that sell anymore. Sit, sit." He gestured for Seth to take a seat at the dining table. The two had lived in this apartment from when Seth was five until he turned nineteen, and he still couldn't get over how what used to feel like a house now seemed so tiny and cramp. The dining table shared space with the living room and the kitchen, and was only a short step away from the solitary bedroom they once shared. All the same, it was warm and cozy, exactly what a home should be. Even if it was in one of the worst parts of Tundratown. "So, how was your first day at precinct one?"

"Oh, you know…"

"Not really," His father set down a stew pot on the table and started serving up portions for them. "So..?"

"They have me in Records."

"Oh Seth…" He patted his son on the back and sat down next to him. "I'm sure you'll catch your break someday."

"I know. It's just- They think I'm still a liability, and they won't put me out there." He idly stirred and turned the contents of his soup, not feeling too hungry. "Maybe they're right…"

"Son," his dad placed a paw on Seth's and looked him in the eye, "did something happen?"

Seth stared back at him and tried hard no to look too upset. "Uh, there's, ah… A fox on staff."

His father sighed heavily and tightened his grip on Seth's paw. He didn't have to ask him what had happened, he knew well enough what his son had been going through by now. "It's okay. You'll get past this. We'll get past this."

"Yeah."

After a moment of silence they started eating. Admittedly, the home cooked meal did perk Seth up a bit, as his dad seemed to have gone all out on the ingredients, with healthy portions of shrimp, mussels, cod and halibut. His dad was actually a pretty good cook, so long as there was seafood involved.

"Well," his dad topped off his wine glass and tilted it back to Seth's to finish off the bottle, "all problems aside, how'd you find things at the new placement?"

"Here and there. Some cops are friendlier than back at precinct four, and others are about the same."

"Hm."

"Oh yeah, and I met a fan of grandpa's."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Seth chuckled. "Judy Hopps, of all mammals."

"No kidding? Do you think she-"

"What? Became a cop because of him? Nah. She gave me the impression she was down that path long before he heard of grandpa."

"Well, still nice to have a famous rookie on your side. Maybe you could get her to talk them into patrolling with her?"

"Actually… He current partner is that fox."

"Ah. …Maybe my father's old protégés are still on staff. You could talk with them about it."

"Dad, I'm not going to ask anyone to just do me a favor every time things don't go my way. It wouldn't mean anything then."

His father smiled warmly, "That's your grandpa talking, there. He never wanted things the easy way. Always had to do it by tooth and nail. Even when his folks, your great-grandparents, told him it was okay to pack it in and leave the academy, he stuck with it. And you know why?"

"Yes," he groaned. Seth had heard this a thousand times before. "Because he wanted to earn that shield, just so he could rub it in the face of everyone who said he couldn't hack it."

"And he did, which was why he was kicked out of the academy's graduation dinner. But anyway, even if you don't want someone to carry you, it might help to get a little encouragement and advice from someone who worked with him."

Seth scooped up the last few meaty bits of the stew and pondered as he chewed it down. "I dunno… It's been, what, twenty..?"

"Twenty-four years."

"Right. Well, the only mammal I've met so far that'd be old enough would be Chief Bogo…"

"Bogo?" His dad cocked his head to the side. "Hold on." He suddenly got up and went into his room. "What kind of animal is he?" he asked from his room.

"Oh, uh, a buffalo. Why?"

"Hah! China-shop!"

"China-shop?"

His father came back out with one of his grandfather's old precinct group photographs, slid away their bowls, placed the picture in front of him, and tapped the upper left corner. Among the rows of police officers, there was a young mammal who was unmistakably Chief Bogo as a rookie. "When your grandfather was organizing security for this big diamond display at the Reitherman Museum, he picked a group of fresh recruits help out, figuring they could use the experience. Anyway, there was this one rookie who acted like brawn was the most important part of being a cop. So much he was careless about his size, and a bit arrogant. So one night, some weasel tried to steal the prized display, only to get spotted on camera, and this rookie just barrelled right at him. However, with weasels being how they are, it wasn't easy to catch him. They were running this way, they were running that way, and finally the rookie tackles the would-be thief. The lights come up, and there's your grandfather and the rest of the taskforce, standing there among all of the smashed displays that this rookie demolished during the chase." Seth's father started to laugh as he continued. "And your grandfather was absolutely furious. Just fuming. He just dressed this guy down in front of his peers, shouting 'you call yourself a buffalo?! All I see is a damned bull in a china-shop!' Oh, ho ho, he never let that rookie live it down for the rest of his years, calling him 'China-shop' every chance he got!" Seth was now laughing along with him; the very idea that someone like the chief being berated by an animal the size of a raccoon was too much. "Ah hah hah. Oh… But, um, I wouldn't recommend reminding him of that."

"Right. Obviously."

"But hey, it at least took your mind off things, right?"

"Yeah," Seth smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

As the evening went on, the time came for Seth to catch his train back to Downtown. And as he stepped back out into the cold evening wind, he looked up at the late night sky, where he saw the stars faintly shining down on the city below, and he wondered if there were any up there that struggled to shine as much as he did.


	2. Chapter 2

Night had fallen. Seth was stuck working late as the entire filing system had to be overhauled and resorted from the ground up. He didn't really understand why, but it made sense at the time when Bogo told him to. After filing away the last folder, he turned off the lights and locked up the office behind him.

The entire precinct was eerily quiet, and strangely the only light present was illuminating from outside the building.

"Where's the night shift?" He wondered out loud as he walked down the hall to the elevator. As he continued on, the place grew darker and darker; the city's aura fading away. His eyes strained to adjust, but nothing changed.

He stopped. The elevator wasn't where it was supposed to be; just a blank wall.

"What the hell?"

Seth figured he must be exhausted and confused, so he turned around to try the other way, but was suddenly faced with another blank wall. Panic hit him; something wasn't right. He spun around and found the other two directions were now also closed off.

He was literally boxed in.

He started to breathe heavily, his heart raced so fast it felt like it would burst, and then he felt it, a heat radiating against his back. Slowly he turned, and he found himself faced with the inside of his apartment door. A red light dimly radiated through the cracks.

"Oh god," he moaned. "Not this."

Bang.

The door shook.

Bang.

The door shuddered.

"Please no…"

Bang.

The door flew open, and the red light flooded through. Slowly the light receded and a tall figure in a suit stood there, his head and hands burned with red fire. The figure opened his eyes, revealing sickening yellow orbs filled with gleeful malice. He stretched out his paws towards Seth, and they contorted into jagged claws.

And then he smiled.

It was rows and rows of sharp, gleaming teeth. Saliva dripped from them and ran down his muzzle.

"You asked for this." The figure's voice echoed in Seth's head. It stepped towards him with its mouth hung open; a red tongue lolled out and dangled obscenely. "You asked for this."

Seth broke and ran, somehow knowing the wall behind him was gone. He ran and he ran into the empty void; still feeling the heat on his back. Still seeing the red light emanate from behind him.

"You asked for this!"

Seth began to feel his legs give out from beneath himself, but he still struggled to move on, until he finally fell to his hands and knees.

"YOU ASKED FOR THIS!"

The light grew brighter and he knew the figure was upon him now. The heat grew higher. He closed his eyes and wished for it to go away, to just leave him alone, but his pleas went unanswered as he felt the claws dig into him. His back burned with a searing pain as the figure clawed at him.

"YOUASKEDFORTHIS! YOUASKEDFORTHIS! YOUASKEDFORTHIS!"

Seth cried and wailed as he felt his body shred to pieces, and then the heat flowed down his neck as he saw the figure's snout close around his neck; fangs digging into his shoulder and wrenching his neck apart.

"YOUASKEDFORTHISYOUASKEDFORTHISYOUASKEDFORTHISYOUASKEDFORTHISYOUASKEDFORTHISYOUASKEDFORTHISYOU-"

Seth bolted out of his bed in a mad scramble; limbs flailing around at the darkness of his room. He tumbled roughly out of bed and scooted back into a corner, panting heavily. His eyes ran wet with tears. Then reality hit him and he felt around for the switch to his bedside lamp. The room illuminated with a soft yellow glow, and he found he was alone with his furnishings and possessions. After a moment of holding his breath to make sure he was truly alone, he got up, picked up the bottle of pills next to his clock-radio, and popped one of the pills in his mouth. His breathing started to slow as he slouched back onto his bedside, and he glanced over at the time. It was only three-forty-two in the morning.

"Dammit," he cursed. He hadn't had a nightmare like this in the last few months, and he had already forgotten just how intense they used to be. He caught himself rubbing his left forearm again, running his fingers through the bare, narrow trenches of scar tissue. Tearing his hand away, he hopped off his bed and skulked into his bathroom to take a shower.

The building's pipes groaned as the water welled up and burst from the showerhead in a cool stream. Seth let it flow over his face as he ran his hands through his cheeks. A strand of grey makeup spiraled down the drain as the concealer washed off the two bare streaks on his lower right jaw. He then turned and shivered as the cool water ran down his shoulders, and over the wild crosshatches that marked up his lower back. Seth learned his left shoulder towards the stream, rubbed the water over it, and then turned his right shoulder into the water, feeling the little indents of bite marks that ran down his collar bone. He then just stood there motionless in the shower for a few moments, before he eventually shut it off and got out to dry off.

Looking into the mirror, he looked like a small, wet, scrawny thing. Not Seth the raccoon, not Seth the police officer, but some sort of pathetic mess of a mammal.

A broken thing.

He turned away to towel off and didn't look back until he was ready to groom his fur. It was still hours before he had to leave, but he still went through the full routine, same as any day. He applied new concealer to the scars on his jaw, brushed the fur over the bald spots, and moved on to brushing the rest of his face into its normal shape. He sprayed on a little musk-mask, and took a swig of mouthwash to get the mealy taste out of his mouth.

Walking back out into his bedroom, he picked up a pair of boxers and slipped them on, groaning as he bent down and back up. Figuring he would make some coffee, he turned off the alarm of his clock and switched on the radio.

"—back to The Ongoing History of New Music with Alan St. Croix. Now, what I'd like to play for you now is a classic piece from the late forties; part of the predator rhythm and blues movement. Some of our older listeners may be more familiar with this group; The Slicks, with their dynamic frontman Harry Hyena. This is Randy Rebecca Rabbit, enjoy."

The boisterous beat of the song playing from the radio consumed the silence of Seth's apartment, and he walked out into the kitchen with his snout bobbing with the tempo. The nightmare was slowly fading back into the recesses of his mind as he started up his coffee maker.

It really shouldn't have been any surprise in the first place that the nightmares would return; until now he had been avoiding contact with any foxes to keep his condition stable. He even had to start using the grocer five blocked up the street, instead his regular one two blocks down, just because later had a fox working as a bag boy. He felt ashamed for the first few times, knowing that the kid had always been friendly and courteous in the past, but the first time he went there after the incident, he had to rush back out without any groceries, and vomited in the side alley. That was what life had become now; a series of compromises to just stay functioning.

And Officer Wilde was not helping at all.

Deep down he wished he had the strength to be in his presence long enough to explain himself, to beg him to keep his distance, but he was weaker than he had realized. Instead he would duck into random offices every time he saw Wilde walking his way, or wave him off and tell him to just drop the document in the box on the door when he would swing by with a new report to be filed. And that fox just wouldn't quit. For the past two weeks, even if he didn't have anything to be filed, he'd still drop in randomly to try at small talk or tell a joke, and Seth would just blurt out he was busy; that he didn't have the time.

He knew that on the inside he was a coward, but on the outside he was acting like a jerk.

Walking over to his living room window with coffee in hand, he stared out at the city skyline and wondered how much longer he had to put up with it all before he would finally get his chance to prove himself as a real cop, and not just some also-ran.

* * *

The morning at work moved along like usual; check new memos, clear the door's drop box, scan new documents and file them. It was a dull monotony, but at least the other cops were warming up to him as they saw him more and more. Clawhauser would come around to gab about whatever new media appearance Gazelle made. Fangmeyer and Wolford would ask him to help settle arguments like whether the giraffe in parking enforcement was 'bangable' or not. Matsuotter from CSI would visit to play a game of 'guess what we found in the vic's stomach'; which never failed to ruin lunch. Even McHorn started grunting 'morning' now and then. And of course Hopps would bounce herself into his office each day, doing her usual keener routine, chirping about making a difference and everyone being part of a team. She had only been in Zootopia for a few years, so her guileless nature was still in tact and endearing, albeit a little naive for a lifer like Seth. One time he accidentally admitted he used to read Encyclopedia Bruin as a cub, and he couldn't get her to stop talking; Bogo had to drag her away by her vest straps just to get her back on duty.

Sometime around early noon, Qantas came around with a case file, looking weary.

"Hey Qantas. You, uh, feeling okay?"

"Huh?" He looked like he was as zoned out completely. "Oh, yeah- I mean, not really." The puzzled look on Seth's face seemed to draw an explanation from him, "me and Codler had to, uh… We got a call on an OD…"

"No good with dead bodies?" Qantas seemed a bit shaken at the question, but he then nodded and placed the case file on the cabinet closest to the door.

"I guess it, ah… You know."

"Happens to the best of us?" Seth offered. The koala furrowed his brow a bit and nodded again.

"Yeah- Yeah, something like that. Uh, see you around, Stoutwell."

Seth watched the disturbed officer walk away, with some concern. He wasn't unfamiliar with the kind of state a bad experience could put you in, but something about the way he was acting felt off. Still, he might've just needed some breathing room, so Seth decided to leave it for now; maybe check on him before the end of his shift.

He was just collecting the folder Qantas left beside the door, when Wilde slid into view, causing Seth to freeze in his tracks.

Red.

"Hey Stout," apparently that was his nickname now, "what does an elephant take to the beach?"

The images of last night's dream came roaring back at him so quickly, he had to turn away before it was too much. "I- I dunno. Listen, I have to get this filed. Maybe, ah- Maybe I'll let you know when I figure it out…" He tried to walk naturally back to his desk, but the room started to feel like it was spinning causing him to stumble a little.

"Okay," he could hear Nick trailing behind him, his voice now less than affable than before, and clearly irritated. "Just what exactly is your problem with me? Huh? I keep trying to warm you up, but all you do is treat me like chopped liver."

'Please, just go.'

"And you seem to get along just fine with everyone else, so what is it? Did I offend you somehow? Did I cheat you in some past life?"

Seth was doing everything he could to control himself, but the feeling of Wilde looming behind him was getting to be too much. 'Just go. Just go. Just. Go.'

"Is it because I'm a fox?"

Suddenly Seth felt Wilde's paw clamp down on his shoulder and without thinking, he spun around and pulled out of his grip. His instincts almost took over, with his back arching up in defense and his limbs tensed, ready to flee. Wilde looked shocked at first, and then hurt, and then insulted. His snout curled up as he glared at Seth; it wasn't just the defensive stance, but something else that offended him.

"Are you thinking of spraying me?"

Seth only then realized that he had been clutching his pills through his pocket again, and clearly Wilde had no idea what was really going on. He could have cleared this up right now, but the fear in him had frozen his jaw shut, and all he could do is stare back at Nick with a mixed look of terror and guilt.

"You know, I've taken a lot of crap from all sorts of prey, but to get this kind of treatment from another pred?!" He was angry now, and Seth could see every last tooth was bared out in infuriation.

Teeth.

Red.

Teeth.

Red.

Teeth.

Teeth.

Run.

Teeth.

RUN.

Seth suddenly broke and dashed past Wilde, shoving the fox out of his way. He ran down the hall, past several cops walking by, straight into the stairwell, and didn't stop until he was at the basement level, where he collapsed in a heap. He was hyperventilating, gasping for air as his heart trashed around in his chest. His paws were jittering out of control as he futilely dug the pills out of his pocket, fumbling them to the ground. He dived after them, frantically opened the bottle, and swallowed a pill.

"Hahn… Hahn… R-r-rainbow F-f-falls… Guh- Glacier Fa- ha- Falls… Sssnowball Dri- hi- hi-" He struggled to finish the stops leading him home, the verbal exercise his psychiatrist gave him for calming down, but he started to break down crying. It started as soft sobbing, and grew into outright bawling.

He cried because he felt like a failure. He cried because he was a coward. He cried because he lost all control. He cried because he could never reverse what had happened to him. He cried because things could never be like they used to be. And he cried because and just couldn't take it anymore.

Eventually his weeping dried up, and he sat there for a while in silence, not quite sure what he should do next. A sickening pit of defeat in his gut told him to just tear off his shield, throw away his uniform, and just walk out the precinct, never to be seen again. But there was some gnarled part of his fractured ego that told him if he just walked away now; anyone left who still cared about him, still encouraged him to keep trying, would finally give up on him and leave him in his hole. And so he slowly picked himself up, wiped his tears away on his sleeve, and climbed the stairs back up to the second floor.

The hallway was clear, save for Chief Bogo standing at the entrance of Records and Documents. The look on his face was a combination of concern and disappointment.

"H-hey Chief, sorry I left my post for a moment. I'll just get back to wor-"

"I'm giving you the day off, Officer Stoutwell." The statement was pure and plain as the knife that dug into his pride.

"N-no, I'm fine. A-and there's still a lot of filing I need to-"

"Officer Tunt will be covering your duties for the rest of today."

"No- But wait- I'm-" Seth was already in a panic; he tried so hard for the last two weeks to get the chief to believe that he was ready, that he was fine, and it was all lost in one day. "You can't-"

"I can. Now go home, Stoutwell. This is not up for debate."

His body felt heavy and weak; bogged down in a mud pit of distress. Everything felt surreal, like he was stuck in a waking dream that burred with reality. Caught up in his state of shock, he barely noticed some officers were looking out from their offices, watching him shuffle away like a zombie. The sound of the chief barking at everyone to get back to work and mind their own business only registered to his ears as a hallow echo. He continued his way down to the main floor and to the lobby; Clawhauser's own dull, distant voice called to him, asking what was wrong, but he still lurched onward in a silent stupor. By the time he felt the haze clear from his mind, he was halfway down the block from the precinct. He slumped against a nearby trashcan, and rubbed his eyes; hoping to wake up from this ordeal and find himself back in bed. But since there was no chance of that happening, he thought of the next best thing.

"I need a drink."

* * *

One of the benefits of his apartment was that it was located above one of the sleepiest dive bars in Downtown, Castor's. He used to work there as a bartender, until he joined the force, and while his place above it was originally part of his pay, old man Castor saw the goodness in his himself to allow Seth to stay, at full rent.

Upon entering the establishment, guests are treated to the very best ambience; old, stained, wood panel walls, torn leather stools and booths, a jukebox that hadn't had its tracks updated in forty years, an ash soiled pool table, and a sticky bar counter. The finishing touch of class was the tinted window, which blotted out the sun with its pattern of amber and maroon diamonds. With all this to offer, Castor's attracted the very best in clientele; from groups of surly capybara truckers, to lusty middle-aged cougars, to alcoholic aardvarks. And if you drop by on karaoke nights, you might catch a couple drunken pandas, belting out some Stan Bushbaby songs.

"Pint of something strong, Castor," Seth grunted as he hopped up on one of the size-appropriate stools.

"Sure thing, kiddo," the old beaver said, and started pouring a glass of dark beer. "Shouldn't you be at work? Or do they have you checking liquor licenses now?"

"Heh," Seth snorted. "No, I was, uh, dismissed for the day. I had an episode…"

Castor sighed and shook his head. "Run in with a fox, huh? Here," he handed Seth his beer, "it's on the house."

"Thanks, Castor."

"Mm, hm. Just don't get carried away. Next one goes right on your tab."

"You're all heart, Castor." Seth smirked and took a sip of his beer. Cool, full-bodied, malty, and with a hint of caramel and coffee; just the way he liked it.

"So what's the story? Some punk got picked up for whatever and gave you a hard time?"

"Nah, my office is nowhere near lockup. He, ah- He's another officer at work."

Castor tsked through the side of his buck teeth. "You set him straight about your, uh, 'condition'?"

He rolled his eyes, "you kidding me? Bad enough my old precinct knew. Even worse my new boss does too. I'm rotting away because of my 'condition'." He felt himself getting riled up again, so he took another swig. "No, instead he thinks I carry around fox spray, like I'm sort of specist."

"Oh don't get me started about prey protections," a ferret sitting next to Seth butted into the conversation; he was holding a shot glass of whisky, which looked like a proper lowball glass in his paws. "Fox Away. Tiger Guard. Wolf Defense. They're all owned by some sheep conglomerate. Tryin' to make a quick buck off of some dumb prey's fears and insecurities, while they keep US PREDS UNDER THEIR HOOVES!" He took a sip from his shot glass and shot a dirty look at a couple rams that looked like they were doing anything possible to ignore him.

"Keep it down, Donnie," Castor groaned. "It's not even two o'clock and you're already making the other customers nervous."

"I'm making them nervous? Me?" He sharply turned to Seth and pointed at him with his glass, sloshing some whiskey on the floor. "You wanna hear about nervous? Every day I came into work and take guff from some rat of a foreman, acting like I ain't good enough to assemble exercise wheels, makin' me feel like I'd get the chop any day, lookin' at me like I'm some kinda freaking EGGSUCKER!"

"Dammit Donnie!" Castor barked, but the ferret paid zero attention to him.

"So what if I lost my cool? Huh?! So what if I committed a little 'defenestration'? It was just the second story window of a rodent building! That kinda fall for a rat is like taking a dive on a water bed! Is that worth costing me MY JOB?!"

"That's it Donnie. Out. Out!"

"Alright, alright, no need to gnaw my freakin' head off." Donnie slug back the rest of his drink and left the bar, still muttering and rambling about life's transgressions.

Castor sighed and shook his head. "Do you miss the old job, yet?"

Seth chuckled and tipped his glass to his snout, "I wouldn't come back if you paid me double."

"Come your retirement, I'll hold you to that. Someone's gotta keep this dump running, or else it'll end up another Ivory Estates high-rise." Castor openly shuddered at the thought. "Anyway, can I get you anything else, Seth?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"Seth?" A hoarse voice croaked behind him, so he swivelled around and saw Helen, a lynx that worked at the local laundromat. Her face was a mess; tears streaming down and matting her fur.

"Hey, Helen," he was genuinely concerned; she was usually so upbeat, and not the sort of woman you'd find in a place like Castor's. "What's wrong?"

He face scrunched up in anguish and she started bawling. "My- my baby's dead!" Seth was at a loss, both for words, as well as options to dry her tears, so he just awkwardly opened his arms and let her clutch him in one big sobbing mass.

"She's been like this since she got here an hour ago. Just got back from the coroner." Castor quietly informed him, while handing him a clean bar towel, which Seth passed on to Helen.

"They-" She sniffed and dabbed her eyes. "They said he was on drugs. But my baby wasn't a junkie. He- he had his problems. Sold things he shouldn't. B-but he never did any drugs. I- I-" She chocked on her words for a second, "I always taught my baby better than that."

"Marlon, right?" Seth asked. Helen nodded in response, still clinging to the towel. "What happened?"

"Cops told her he OD'd." Castor offered again.

Helen shook her head. "They s-said he had a needle in his arm. T-that his heart stopped from taking t-too much. But that's not my baby! He'd never do that stuff!"

"Okay, okay, I believe you." Seth had run into Marlon a few times in the past. The guy wasn't much of a saint; sold illegal descrambler cards for DVRs, bootleg movies, gravity knives; it wasn't past the realm of possibility that he might've been dabbling in drugs, and it wasn't uncommon for some dealers to get caught up in their own product, but he wasn't going to be the one tell her that. Especially not now.

"I tired to tell them there was a mistake," Helen was starting to calm down, and her speech was getting more controlled. "There has to be a mistake. Seth," she looked him straight in the eye, "you're a police officer, maybe you could talk to them, o-or you could get them to reopen the case, help with the investigation. They'd listen to you, a-and you could prove my baby wasn't a junkie."

"Helen, I-" Seth raised his paws in apology and sighed. "I'm not really… that kind of cop. I'm sorry." He wasn't sure what caused that statement sting more, the hurt look on Helen's face, or the fact that he finally admitted what he didn't want to. A pained knot twisted deep inside him, and his paws fell back to his lap.

"Oh… Okay. I'm sorry I bothered you then…" The former mother lowered her gaze and started to turn.

"Wait. Helen." Seth couldn't stand this. What kind of mammal was he? What kind of cop was he? How the hell could he consider himself even remotely related to his grandfather and fail in his sworn duty to serve and protect the animals of Zootpia, including those in his own neighborhood? The feelings that haunted him this whole day, the fear, the pity, the loathing, they meant nothing in this moment. "I'll talk to the officers that handled this case, and I will do anything I can to help get to the bottom of what really happened to you son. I promise."

He almost expected some sweeping change in her mood at this, but this wasn't some movie where the hero brings a smile back to the damsel's face. She was a real mother who lost her actual and only son, so the best she could muster was a lopsided smile mixed with sorrow and a soft 'thank you'. She gave Seth the business card of the detective that contacted her and spoke with her at the coroner, thanked him again, and quietly left the bar.

"Detective Atkins…" He read off of the card, and tucked it into his pocket. It was decided; tomorrow he will return to work, speak with this detective, and if he didn't get the answers he wanted, he'll take matters into his own hands. He was through relinquishing control of his life. Starting tomorrow, he was going to take back what he lost, and prove to himself that he was worth a damn.


	3. Chapter 3

"-That was Invincible, by OK Goat. Now we're going to take a short break, but we'll be right back with more hits, right after these messages.

"It was late, and I decided to cut through an alley, when I realized I was being followed. I don't know what would have happened to me if I didn't have my Fox Away brand fox-taser. Now I never leave home without i-"

It was during his morning grooming routine that Seth made the decision to stop making compromises. He had been brushing his fur, and was about to pick up his concealer, when he stopped, and closed the vanity, leaving it behind. It was a bit awkward brushing the fur on his left jaw the proper way again, as he had gotten into the habit of combing over the scars. But when he was finished, he had to admit it felt good to see the old fur-style again. The claw marks kind of made him look distinguished, in a way.

Next came his uniform. When he first joined the force, he had opted for the short sleeved variant, partly out of the vain thought that it was a good look for him, but also because it was his grandfather's preferred style as well. However, since the incident, he had been wearing the more traditional long sleeved shirt, to hide the scarring on his left forearm, to avoid mammals staring and asking what happened. But he was done caring about what other mammals saw or thought, so he put on his short sleeved uniform, did up his tie, and donned his cap.

Looking in the mirror, he sensed a small part of him getting stronger. His posture and expression seemed less timid, and more serious. He felt like a real cop again, even if he was still just an over-qualified filing clerk.

On his way out the door, he paused and looked at his emergency pills with the consideration of leaving them behind. But after a long pause, he snatched them up and stuffed them into his pocket; figuring that it'd be better to have them close by, as he may still have some use for them, anxiety attack or not.

* * *

"Morning Officer Stoutwell," Clawhauser greeted in his usual sing-song cadence, as he brought a donut to his mouth. When he actually got a good look at Seth, he spat the donut back out in a moment of uncharacteristic shock. "Ohmygoshwhathappenedtoyou?!"

"Heh. Old story," Seth smirked. "Listen, I need to talk to a Detective Atkins. You know if he's on duty today?"

Clawhauser had picked his donut back up and blew off the debris that got stuck to it. "Oh, yeah. His shift started an hour ago, and he usually puts in overtime, so he'll be around for a while." He then popped the donut back into his mouth. "Arf you shur yourf hokay?" He asked with a mouth full of fried dough.

"Yeah, perfectly. I'll catch you later Clawhauser. I might need you to do me a favor."

The department where the precinct's detectives congregated was abuzz with ringing phones and mammals weaving their way around desks. It was a confusing mess, and yet also a vibrant example of how much work went into keeping the people of Zootopia safe. A nearby tiger in a tweed suit noticed Seth standing there and motioned for him to come over. He had recognized him from the break room, trading anecdotes with the other tiger cops; Detective Raj.

"Officer Stoutwell, can I be of any assistance?" He asked in a deep, velvety voice.

"Actually, I'm looking for Detective Atkins? He around?"

Raj turned towards the other end of the office and shouted, "Hey, King. Someone needs to speak with you." Seth looked in the direction he bellowed and saw a tired looking king cheetah, dressed in a wrinkled suit and an even more wrinkled tan overcoat. Atkins lazily looked over at Raj and Seth and jerked his head to the side, beckoning him to come over.

"Make it quick, kid," Atkins grumbled, "I have a lot of work on my plate." Apparently that work included the racing forms in his paws.

"Right," he almost lost his train of thought. "You, uh… You were on a case the other day, an OD that was found dead on the scene. A lynx. Male. Early twenties."

"Yeah, yeah," Atkins nodded impatiently. "Your point?"

"Well I was asked by the mother of the deceased to take another look at the circumstances of his death, so I was wondering if there was anything you could tell me about the investigation."

Atkins fixed a withering stare at Seth and dropped everything on his desk with a heavy sigh. "Listen, I'm sure you said you'd help out of the goodness of your heart, but I have to break it to you; the case is closed."

"Yeah, but-"

"But nothing," Atkins cut him off. "This thing happens all the time in Zootopia. And we can't afford to spend much time on every OD case that comes our way. It's crummy, but so's life." He stared hard at Seth again, and then groaned. "Fine. If you want to waste your time to humor some mom who can't cope with their kid being a screw up, it's no fur off my hide. Sit."

Seth quickly grabbed and chair and retrieved his notepad from his belt.

"Two officers were on patrol and spotted a male Lynx laying face down and unresponsive in an alley. They confirmed he had no pulse, and there was a syringe stuck in his arm. I checked the scene to confirm it. And forensics confirmed that the contents of the syringe, as well as his blood, contained heroin and ketamine-"

"Wait, the stuff in our tranq guns?" Seth paused his note taking and cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah. It's not uncommon for some chem-heads to mix and match in search of different highs. Usually you don't see them mixing two downers, though. Anyway, we concluded that the dose was too high and stopped his heart. End of story."

"That's it?"

Atkins was looking visibly annoyed at Seth's response. "Yes, that's it. Like I said, OD cases like this aren't rare." The king cheetah's cell phone started vibrating, so he grabbed it and frowned at Seth. "Anyways, you're in Records, right? So go read the file if you want to nit pick the details." And with that he ended their conversation by answering his phone with a "Thrill me."

* * *

Officer Tunt clearly wasn't the sort of ocelot who carried other mammals' work loads with diligence, as Seth arrived to his office to see that at least half of yesterday's files were just stacked up in his in-box, unsorted and unaddressed. He flipped through the stack, but didn't find anything concerning an OD, so he went to the filing cabinets and flicked through the documents, until he found one labelled 'Atria, M.' and checked the full name listed inside, confirming it was Marlon Atria, Helen's son.

Laying out the case file on his desk, he found Atkins' report, along with reports from the two original officers at the scene. He felt like and idiot for not realizing it sooner, but the officers were listed as Qantas and Codler.

"Right, so this must've been the case that shook him up the other day," he murmured to himself.

Along with the reports were a manifest of evidence and other items belonging to the deceased that were recovered from the scene, the coroner's report, and a series of photos from the crime scene. It was hard to see Marlon lying lifeless like that. He never was what Seth would consider to be a friend, but he used to see him around from time to time, back when he was working at Castor's.

He was engrossed in the details Qantas and Codler left about how they spotted the body and investigated, when Seth suddenly felt something looming over him.

"You know, I think you might be able to do your job quicker if you didn't read every file before putting them away." Wilde's voice caused Seth to leap out of his chair, and he instinctively darted against the wall. "Whoa. Sorry," Wilde raised his paws in a calming gesture. "Didn't mean to startle you like that. I, ah, actually come by to apologize about yesterday."

Red.

"I got a little hot under the collar, and that's my fault."

Red.

"I just wanted to make sure there aren't any hard feelings between us."

Red.

'He's not threatening you.'

Re- 'Calm.'

R- 'Relax.'

Seth tried to rein in his anxiety; his breath slowed as the panicked voice in the back of his head receded. His feet were still poised to flee at a moment's notice, but he at least felt in control of that decision. It would be difficult, but he knew what he had to do next.

"So listen, I don't have a problem with you, but if you have an issue with foxes, I'll just keep my distance and we'll try to get along that wh- Really?! The spray-can again?" Wilde had noticed Seth was reaching into his pocket. "I was really hoping we could get past that junk, Stout. Because honestly- Ack!"

The fox barely had a moment to react before the bottle of pills was flung his way. They bounced from paw to paw, contents rattling about, until he finally had a firm grasp on the container. Wilde held it up, expecting to see the Fox Away brand logo, but instead he found himself reading a white label; his snout curled up in confusion. His mouth silently flapped as he tried to interpret the medical jargon written on the label.

"Wait a minute. I know a guy who takes this," he finally said. "He was a limo driver that got attacked during the night howler case…" It seemed to also be at this moment he noticed that Seth had exposed scars, as his look of concern grew. "Stout, were you attacked by someone on howlers?"

"No," Seth softly spoke. "I wish it was something as simple as that." He paused and took a few shallow breaths, readying himself for what he would confess. "I, uh… That is…"

'Come on now. Just tell him.'

He looked directly at Wilde and said "I was assaulted by a fox."

The statement sucked the air out of the room, and the two looked at each other with uncomfortable silence.

"It, ah- It was almost a year ago. A-and he wasn't on howlers. Maybe a little drunk, but…" He broke his gaze from Wilde and started rubbing his forearm. "He wasn't some random fox. He was someone I knew and trusted. Thought I could trust…"

"I'm sorry, Stout. Seriously. But you have to understand that-"

"You're not the same fox, I know. And neither is the kid at my grocers. Or the woman behind me at the ATM. Or the family in the park. Or the couple getting coffee. O-or any other foxes I've panicked over since then. But each time I run into a one out of the blue, it's like he's right there again, looking to, uh, finish the job." He sighed, "I'm sorry, Officer Wilde. I should have explained myself, but I was too worried about word getting around, and I didn't want the other officers to see me as some kind of basket-case…"

"I think I know how you feel," Wilde said, and tossed the pills back to Seth. "Not, uh, so much about what happened, but about wanting to fit in." He ran his paw over his cheek, looking like he wanted to share something himself, but couldn't. "If there's anything I can do. I dunno… Should I just stay out of your fur?"

"No," Seth was a bit surprised at how loudly he just said that, "Ah, no, no. It's not fair to ask you to do that." Not to mention, it wouldn't have done anything to convince the chief he was able to handle himself. "Just, uh, maybe some distance? If that's okay?"

"Sure, sure," Wilde nodded, and then he looked around the room, looking like he was working something out in his head. "Hey, uh, Stout," he started to back up towards the doorway, "could you stand by your desk for a moment?" Seth gave him a perplexed look, "Just humour me, please."

The raccoon shuffled over to his desk and shrugged. "Okay?"

"Good, now tell me when I'm too close." Wilde took measured steps towards Seth, pausing each time he moved forward. Around partway past the third cabinet in, Seth raised a paw to stop him. He wasn't terrified like before, but he could still feel his pulse raising. "Here? Okay, be back in a second." And then he darted off and returned shortly after with a roll of masking tape, which he proceeded to make a line down the carpet with. "Okay, Stout, you are now the proud new owner of Nicholas P. Wilde's Comfort Zone. Patent pending."

"Okay…" He tried to suppress the urge to laugh at the absurdity, but all Seth managed to do was break out into a crooked smile.

"Now, on your side is a Fox Free Zone, and you have my guarantee on that. I will not pass this side," he stomped the side he was on for emphasis, "Which is more than enough room for me to come by, drop off my paperwork, and see how you're doing. Sound good?"

"Uh, yeah, that should be fine."

"Great. Oh, and I almost forgot the best feature." Wilde tossed the roll of tape over to Seth, causing him to go into his own fumbling scramble. "It's adjustable! So the more you get used to me, the closer you can move the line. And maybe we can someday reach a point where you won't need the Comfort Zone. …Patent pending."

Seth was genuinely touched. The concept was silly, of course, but he didn't expect someone to make this kind of gesture. Least of all someone who barely knew him.

"Thanks, Officer Wilde. For, uh, this. And understanding."

"Don't mention it," he shrugged and smirked. "Oh, and my friends just call me Nick, okay?" He then turned to leave, "I'll catch you around, Stout."

"Hey Nick," Seth called while setting down the tape. Nick halted at the door and turned.

"Yeah?"

"Swim trunks. The, ah, joke yesterday. The answer was swim trunks, right?"

Nick smiled and tapped the side of his nose, "I'll have a tougher one for you tomorrow, Stout." And with a wave of his paw he slipped out the door, saying "Just hold on to the tape and we'll see what works, alright?"

A feeling of contentment washed over Seth. He may have to explain the border to the chief, but at least he could use it as proof that he was making progress in his recovery.

Maybe even get parking duty in a month or two.

Wondering if that idea should be considered encouraging or sad, he turned back to the case file. The roll of tape had been placed over the crime scene photos, and when he went to pick it up, what Nick had last said suddenly sprung to mind. 'What works.'

And then it hit him.

"Wait a minute. Where's the works?" The pictures included the deceased, the needle in his arm, and the various bits of trash in the alley, but no works. He quickly checked the manifest again and confirmed it. No rubber tube. No spoon. No lighter. No baggie. Junkies don't just load up a syringe and take their smack to go. It was becoming very possible that Helen wasn't wrong to think this wasn't cut and dry after all.

* * *

"Hey, Officer Qantas, Codler!" Seth shouted across the lobby at the two officers. He had paged Clawhauser earlier to let him know if he saw them, and just got the notice that they dropped in with a hedgehog they caught on a DUI. They were just handing him off for processing when Seth arrived.

"Well, well. I knew I smelled concealer on you the day you first walked in." Codler jeered as he noticed Seth's change in appearance. "How'd it happen? You get in over your head playing pretend cop?"

"C'mon, Codler," Qantas groaned, "Could you lay off him for a minute?"

"Whatever," Codler snorted and walked off.

"Sorry Stoutwell, did you need something?"

"Yeah, I was looking at the OD case you had from yesterday," Seth opened the folder he was toting and flipped through to pages to Qantas' report, "And there was some details I wanted to check with you."

"What? I don't understand…" Qantas was looking a bit bothered by the reminder, which Seth expected, given how badly the case bothered him the day before. "Did the chief have a problem with it?"

"Oh, no. No. I'm just looking into it for a friend. The, uh, mother of the deceased, that is."

"I see," Qantas gave him an unsure look. "Well everything that I and Codler saw is in the report, so if you already read it, there's not much else I can tell you, sorry."

"Right, but I just want to ask if you guys noticed anything missing."

"Missing?"

"Yeah, there wasn't any mention of his drug kit being found at the scene, and-"

"Oh, yeah, no," Qantas abruptly cut him off, "We checked around and didn't find anything else. I'm sorry, but I really gotta go and file this DUI report, or Codler will give me heck for dumping everything on him." He started to rush off, but stopped and turned to deliver a last piece of advice. "I know you're just trying to help, but you don't want to get into trouble over this."

"He's right you know," Clawhauser admitted. "The chief does not have the patience for officers that ignore their post. Like this one time, there was a VIP ticket sale for Gazelle, but you had to buy the tickets at the booth, so I figured I could just sneak out for a moment and be back before anyone noticed, but there was this big line, and-"

"Stoutwell, return to your duties, immediately!" The booming voice of Chief Bogo thundered down from where he stood on the second floor walkway, looking less than pleased.

"You should probably go," Ben uncomfortably suggested.

"Right," Seth agreed and quickly made his way to the elevator. Any further investigation would have to wait until he was off duty.

"And why in god's name is your office covered in tape?!"


	4. Chapter 4

"-epidemic, I tell you. Something has to be done about these preds taking 'howler'."

"Well, now, I disagree. Statistically, prey are more likely to be caught buying, or in possession of, 'howler'. It's because they're raised in these affluent, zero-risk neighborhoods, where they know they can get away with anything a pred can't. So they push the envelope."

"Oh sure, blame the prey. I bet you think preds won't do drugs if we raise grazing taxes to pay their welfare."

"That's not what I'm saying. That's not what I'm-"

A radio talk show could be heard droning from a cab that was idling along the curb, waiting for its next fare. Tensions between the predators and prey had always been there, long before the former assistant mayor's scheme. But with the more recent rise in drug-related crime involving 'night howlers', the finger pointing game between pred and prey was inching back to an all-time high.

By the time he reached the south-west end of Savannah, dusk hadn't yet fallen over the city, leaving Seth an hour or two before the sun would fully set. And while nightfall had never been an issue with raccoons, this neighborhood didn't look like the sort of place you'd want to be caught in an alley after dark. Still, he came prepared, as he was still wearing his utility belt, keeping his telescopic baton and other tools close at hand.

Technically he shouldn't be walking around in full uniform when he was off duty, but he figured that potential witnesses might be more willing to talk to him if he looked like he was there on official business. Besides, he wasn't planning on making any arrests, and if he got in over his head, he'd just radio the station for assistance.

Making his way down towards where they found the body, he took in the local sights. Some stores had bars over their display windows; others that were already closed had heavy shutters, barring any mammals with ill intents. Brick walls were dotted with various graffiti tags, while every fence and lamp post was plastered with bills and advertisements. One stretch of the block was covered in the same repeating black and neon poster, promoting some new club called Lone Digger. It seemed like the sort of place he'd find his friends Georg and Yorgi, spending an unconscionable amount of money on imported carrot vodka and mescal. Catching a putrid whiff of a nearby trash pile, Seth wished he was sharing a drink with them now.

Eventually he reached the spot where they found Marlon's body. The alley ran between an insect stir-fry joint and a dry cleaner. The police report noted they already questioned the staff of both places; no one had heard any commotion until the police arrived. There weren't any bystanders who saw what happened either. At least, not the kind a police officer would bother asking; as Seth noticed a small group of vagrant mammals huddling in the alley across the street.

"Hi, pardon me, Officer Stoutwell, ZPD," Seth introduced himself as he scuttled over to the transients. A group of rats recoiled, and an opossum gave him a wary look.

"Sorry, Officer," The opossum murmured, while starting to collect his things. "We'll move along. We don't want any trouble."

Seth held up his paws to reassure them. "It's okay. I'm not here on any complaints. I just want to ask a couple questions."

"About what?" One of the rats asked indignantly. Her companions looked a little tense and worried at her abruptness.

"I'm, ah, following up on an OD case that happened over there," he pointed at the alley across the street. "Were any of you in the area yesterday morning? Have you seen this lynx around?" He handed off his phone, with a picture of Marlon displayed.

The opossum took a good look, and then lowered it down for the rats to have a gander. "Can't say I was here yesterday, Officer," the opossum replied. "What about you guys?"

Most of the rats shook their heads and shrugged, except for one that was wearing a torn parka and frayed toque. "We usually forage a few blocks north around that time of day," he explained. "But, uh, have you talked to Old Red?"

"Old Red?"

The rat pointed back towards the crime scene. "He has a box down there. If anyone was around yesterday, it'd be him."

"Thanks for the, ah, tip." Seth retrieved his phone and handed his business card to a couple of them. "If you remember anything strange, give me a call."

"Oh sure," the tetchy lady rat grumbled. "We got plenty of quarters to spare."

He decided to let that go, considering he let his own ignorance walk him into that one.

Getting back to the original alley, he compared the crime scene photos to where he was standing. The restaurant's dumpster and the collection of tags on the wall made it easy to sort out, as they were featured in some of the shots of Marlon's body. He had been facing towards the opposite end of the alley; like he was making his way to the other end when he had collapsed from heart failure. His body wasn't just slumped either, but stretched forward, as if he was moving quickly. Running, maybe.

Seth then peered down the alley to see if he could spot this Old Red character, when he noticed a hint of movement from a box that was several feet away. As he crept closer, the box shuddered again; this time a bushy red tail flicked out of the box and swished back in.

'Old Red,' he internally chastised himself, 'should have known.'

Old Red was a fox.

"P-pardon me, sir?" He knew there was no avoiding this, so he did his best to suppress the urge to walk the other way. "Mister, ah, Red?"

The box jerked, almost like the fox's shelter itself was reacting. "Who that?" A creaky, folksy voice reverberated through the cardboard.

"O-officer Stoutwell, ZPD."

Old red suddenly poked his head out of the box; one eye seemed closed, or at least swollen shut. His ears looked chewed, and there were odd patches of bare hide along his snout. "Oh, evening officer!" Despite his rough appearance, he still seemed genial. "How can Ole Red help you this fine evening?"

"There was a, ah, recent death in this alley. Y-yesterday, actually. And, uh, some of the folks over there said you might've been around to see what happened."

"Oh yes," Old Red fully emerged from his box, and wearily flexed his joints. "I was around." He seemed to take note of the distance Seth was keeping, and his lips curled back in a lazy smile. "Don't be shy, officer. Ole Red's bite ain't what it used to be." The smile grew and Seth saw the old fox was missing a large number of teeth. "Bark ain't much better, neither. Hyeh hyeh."

He felt stupid. This old fox didn't look like he had the strength to menace a squirrel, let alone a pred like himself, so he ambled closer. "Right. So, uh, I'm trying to make sure we didn't miss anything in the, er, investigation, and I was hoping maybe you saw anything before the police arrived." Like with the others, he passed over his phone with a picture of Marlon displayed.

"Hmm, well, can't say I was paying attention before I heard that cruiser pull up…" He scratched the fur on his chin while holding the phone to his good eye. "Boys made a lot of commotion. By the time Ole Red got curious, they was callin' it in," he passed the phone back and pointed towards the crime scene. "The little guy, koala I think, he was the one on the radio. Seemed mighty shook up. His partner didn't seem that bothered, though."

"The coyote, right?"

"Yessuh. He seemed more interested in that dumpster over there." He gestured to the same dumpster that was in the photos. "After that some other folks showed up, took a lot of pictures, bagged that boy up, and then they was gone as soon as they came."

"No one approached you for a statement?"

"Me? Aw, heck no," Old Red snorted. "Folks don't trust no foxes, let alone ones in such a financial predicament. Naw, they ignored Ole Red, jus' like the rest."

"Oh, uh, sorry," he wasn't sure why he apologized, but he did. "And after they left, did you see anything they might've missed? Like a drug kit?"

"Can't say I did," the fox shook his head. "An' if anyone else did, they prob'ly turned it in at the outreach where they can get a buck or two for keepin' that stuff off the streets."

Seth was disappointed. He was hoping that maybe there was something he could work with; a new lead. "Well, thanks for answering my questions, sir." He chose not to embarrass himself again by offering his business card.

"Well hol' on one second," Old Red halted him. "Can I see that picture one more time?" Seth retrieved his phone and held it back up for him to see. "Uh huh. Didn't notice it before, but I've seen this boy around."

"Before yesterday? Here?"

"Yessuh. But not here. Further west. Down by where the docks are."

Seth scrambled to get out his notepad and started jotting this down. "What time? Do you remember anything strange?"

His sudden interest seemed to amuse the fox, "Hyeh. That put a fire in you! Now lessee… Saw him a couple times. Last was 'bout a day or two before he turned up here- Yeah, two days before, cause it was rainin', and while I love my little plot'a land," he tapped the ground playfully, "it ain't much good in a storm. So I head to the old water plant over there. Closest shelter in the area."

Seth had heard about how the city converted some of their decommissioned service structures as makeshift homeless shelters; it shouldn't be hard to look up the ones in the area and sort out where he spotted Marlon. "Any idea what he was up to? Possibly related to drugs?"

Old Red shrugged. "Didn't see any drugs, but he looked like he was sellin' some flick-knives to a couple'a hyenas. Ladies," he elaborated. "Big gals."

"This might be worth looking into…" Seth finished up his notes and tucked the pad away. "You've been a big help, mister, ah, Red."

"Jus' glad to do my civic duty, officer. You ever need to speak to Ole Red again, I'll be here."

"Never stray far, huh?"

"Naw. I'm what you call sentimental." He rapped his paw against the brick wall behind him. "Place used to be a haberdashery. One of the few in it's time that hired foxes, let alone catered to pred and prey alike. 'Course times have changed, and there ain't much room for small shops like that no more…" There was a faraway look on his face, like he was remembering what this neighborhood used to be like in its heyday, but he quickly shook it off. "Anyway, 'scuz my ramblin'. I'll jus' let you get back to your job, officer." And with a wave, he slipped back into his box.

While he didn't exactly get the sort of answers he was looking for, the trip wasn't a total loss. He figured he'd drop by the docks, track down the shelter, and see if any new leads would spring up from there.

Just as he was passing the dumpster near the exit of the alley, what Old Red mentioned about Codler came back to mind. It might've been possible Codler figured Marlon tossed his kit in there; like he maybe thought he was spotted and ditched it. He peeked inside and saw the bin was brimming with trash bags. "Hey, Red," he called back at the homeless fox, "any idea when they collect the trash around here?" He looked back and saw Red's head peaking out of his box.

"Sure do. Last pickup was four days ago."

'So whatever went in yesterday is probably still here,' Seth thought to himself. He didn't doubt that Codler tried to search the dumpster, but he had a feeling he didn't dig deep enough. Unfortunately this was the sort of job a raccoon was suited for, so he sighed heavily as he put his hat aside and reluctantly dove in.

The inside of the bin smelled exactly like you would expect one to. Possibly worse, as the contents of some of the bags were already fermenting and breaking down into unpleasant fluids. He got about midway down before he resurfaced for air; nothing was found yet, and he regretted wearing his uniform for this. Feeling a wet spot around his shoulder, he reached to wipe it off, and found a soggy piece of paper had gotten stuck to him. It looked like the corner of a larger piece of paper, and it had the number '11' written on it. It didn't seem to be a laundry ticket or an order chit, so he figured it didn't come from the neighboring establishments, but he wasn't sure if it was really relevant. Still, he did what he could to blot it dry and tossed it into his hat, before making a second dive.

This time he went deeper, with his flashlight in hand. Rutting through the trash, he still didn't find any loose items like a spoon or a lighter, but he did find more scraps of paper, which he duly collected before he shimmied back up. There were four pieces in all; though one of them was so soaked in filth it was barely legible, leaving the three, which read, '11', 'GREENS', and '38'. He still couldn't sort out if these scraps were useful at all, but he still decided to dry them off and bag them as potential evidence.

"Worst case scenario," he muttered to himself, "I'm out a baggie."

* * *

Tracking down the shelter Old Red had used was as easy as Seth figured it would be, but it didn't seem to be much of a place for further leads. The area was all harbor property and warehouses; barely a sign of life for blocks, save for a beacon of light and thumping music down the street.

"Well, gotta start somewhere, I guess."

After getting closer, he got a better look at this electric oasis. The exterior was a matte black, with gold flash trim, with a gaudy neon sign proclaiming 'The Golden Fleece', with an animated neon sheep that looped through a stripping routine, winking at the viewer before it resets back to being fully dressed. Lower down was a marquee that advertised the themes of each night, like 'Catbath Saturdays', and 'Bunny Wrestling Sundays'. Tonight was 'half-price wings night', which didn't seem quite as exotic.

"Even in the middle of no-where, there's always a strip joint," Seth mused, as he looked at the glamour shots that displayed the sort of dancers inside. Noticing the number of bunny performers displayed, he wondered how many country rabbits came to Zootopia with big dreams like Judy Hopps, only to end up here when the chips were down. It kind of gave him a new sense of respect for what Judy accomplished, while also making him feel guilty for that one time he let Yorgi hire him two bunny strippers for his academy graduation party.

A bouncer stood vigilantly at the door. He was a panther, and dressed in the standard bouncer attire; all-black suit, and a collection of gold chains and jewellery. When the big cat spotted Seth approaching, he raised a paw to stop him.

"Sorry, buddy, but you have the wrong joint. Chip & Dale's is four blocks east from here."

Seth forced a smile and produced his badge. "Actually I'm a cop, not a stripper."

"Oh. Listen, uh, I'm not the owner, but I know our licences are up to date-"

"Not here about that. I'm looking into a possible homicide," he went through the routine of flashing Marlon's photo. "Have you seen this mammal in the area lately?"

The panther barely glanced at the photo before shaking his head. "Naw, never seen the guy. I only keep my eyes on who enters and leaves the club, dig?"

"Okay, fair enough. Mind if I ask the other staff inside, see what they-"

"Not without a warrant," the bouncer immediately cut him off, and gave him a stern look that indicated he wasn't in the mood for further discussion. Seth didn't want any trouble, and he certainly wasn't in the position to leverage his way inside, considering he wasn't on official duty, so he reluctantly tipped his hat at the bouncer, and moved on.

"Hello? Hello, hello?" Seth suddenly heard someone calling him from around the corner next to the strip club, and was greeted with the sight of an antelope wearing some ostentatiously fluffy, white, wool coat, and a flower tucked behind one of his ears. He would have figured he was some sort of pimp, but seeing as how only a cardboard box sat next to him, that wasn't very likely. Unless if his stable was a bunch of mice in the box. But that seemed silly.

"Yes? Can I help yo-" Seth was immediately swept up by the antelope and ushered over to the lone box.

"Oh no, my friend, it's how I can help you. Got turned away at the door, right? Well don't feel bad, because the best adult entertainment is the kind you can bring home with you. Voila!" He proudly waved a hoof at the box, and Seth peered inside.

It was porn.

Interspecial porn.

"I got every kink you can think!" The porn peddler kept up his spiel while gathering a stack of DVDs to show off. "You like rabbits? I got one, personal favorite, features one rabbit and two gemsboks." He flashed the case by Seth's gaze, and immediately tossed it before he could respond. "Though maybe you want a little something that appeals to your pred sensibilities, eh? Eh? Boom," another case was shoved in his face, this one displaying a fox surrounded by horny rabbits, "Bucktooth BJs. Just wall-to-wall knot-gagging for sixty minutes. Or how about this? Full Moon Fever. Got a little sci-fi plot to keep you interested. No? How about The Bounce House? One naive fox stumbles on a house full of barely legal bunnies. Ooo la la!" His cheesy grin only held for a few moments, before Seth's lack of response diminished it. "Uh, listen, sorry if foxes aren't your bag, but fox-on-rabbit is really popular now, and you gotta play to the crowd if you wanna make a buck, capisce?" Without missing a beat he tossed the next few fox and rabbit centric videos back into the box. "I think I have some wolf-on-lamb stuff in here… Oh, shit, how'd that get there?" he furrowed his brow at a family-friendly pirate movie that somehow made it into the stack, and promptly tossed it into the box.

"Uh, listen," Seth finally piped up, "I'm not really interested in-"

"Oh!" The antelope exclaimed. "Oh! Well I don't usually cater to that side of the fence, but I think I have… Ah, here we go, some goat-on-ram action!" he presented Seth with a DVD that displayed a partially undressed male goat, and a ram that was only wearing underwear and a trucker hat, with the title 'Boring Holes' printed across the top in hot pink.

"Whoa, just stop for a second," he had lost his patience and raised his paws to cease the sales pitch. "I'm not here for strippers, or porn, or- whatever else you have in there! I'm just looking into a possible homicide case, so if you have seen this lynx in the area lately," he yanked out his phone and pulled up a picture of Marlon for the umpteenth time that evening, "I would greatly appreciate-"

"Sorry," the antelope glared and spoke coldly, "but I don't talk to mammals who waste my time." The then tossed the rest of his stack into the box, folded it shut, picked it up, and walked away in a huff. "Good night to you sir. Good night."

Seth gripped his phone tightly and fought off the urge to smash it against the pavement in frustration. Instead he just sat down on the curb and sulked. This investigation was now going nowhere fast. He wasn't even sure why he bothered with those stupid pieces of paper he found in the dumpster, so he pulled out the baggie and decided to focus his anger on them, instead of his phone. In a fit of childishness, he glared so hard at the paper that he hoped it would spontaneously combust.

And then he saw it.

Through the transparent baggie, he saw the building's street number, stenciled onto the curb.

1115.

He looked back at the paper in the bag.

11 and 38.

"It's a flipping address!"

He jumped to his feet and bolted to the other side of the street, where he found 1116 in front of an old warehouse, across from the strip club. He checked left and right for the next street number, and eventually sorted out that the numbers ascended as he continued northward. So he straightened his cap, and marched north.

After several blocks, he arrived at a fenced off lot, with the numbers 1138 painted on the curb. "Okay, so this is one-one-three-eight… But what's with the other part?" He had been walking on Tillandsia Street this entire time, but the remaining piece of paper said 'GREENS'. Seeing as how the lot was by an intersection, he checked the street signs and quickly sorted it out; this was the corner of Tillandsia Street and Greensea Lane. It wasn't exactly the best way of writing down an address, but Seth figured that maybe Marlon was in a rush to make sure someone got the address, and he mixed up the streets.

Or maybe he was just kidding himself, and it was supposed to be 'Greenside Grove', in the Rainforest District.

Scouting out the lot, he was greeted with a sight that he had been getting more familiar with lately; a vinyl banner that stated this property was now the site of another Ivory Estates building project. "Jeez, they have these springing up all over the city…"

The lot itself was more or less the same as any other part of the area; big open space for shipping containers, a dock for a cargo ship, and two warehouses. Well, one warehouse and one burnt out husk of what used to be a warehouse. It was likely the original owners sold the property after they lost half their storage space.

Other than the burnt building, there wasn't much he could see that would give him probable cause to trespass, and since there was no way he could get a warrant for an unsanctioned investigation, he was almost ready to finally give up for the evening.

Almost.

The sound barely reached his ears, but when he picked it up he could hear it clear as day.

Laughter.

And not the kind of laughter that came with a good joke. It was mirthless and cruel. The kind of laughter only a hyena could make.

He looked towards the source, and saw a dim light coming through one of the windows on the top floor of the warehouse. A wide, toothy grin spread across his muzzle.

"Well, that certainly looks suspicious enough for me."


	5. Chapter 5

"Ermph. Maybe it's not too late to turn back, get some sleep, return to my cushy little desk job. My boring. Menial. Desk jo- Aack!" Seth yelped and gripped at the pipe with all his strength to keep from slipping off. "Or, ah, better yet, just quit entirely. Yeah... Quit and go back to bar tending. Sling drinks. Carry out the drunks. I was good at that. I was very, very goo- Oh crap!" His right paw slipped as he felt the pipe shudder against the building's wall. Three storeys up and he was regretting the entire venture.

Not that he had much choice; the lot was barely sealed off, but the building's entrances were locked up tight. Only way he could figure he'd get a look inside was either a roof entrance or sky light on the top floor. And the only way up there was this rickety utility pipe that ran up the side of the building. So here he was, doing what his ancestors did best, climbing. Though that didn't do him much good, as he never climbed anything more than a flight of stairs.

For a brief moment, he broke the cardinal rule and looked down; the distant pavement felt like a pretty good motivator to give up and shimmy back down. But the memory of Helen's face, sobbing over her late son, pushed him onward. "C'mon, just one last floor to go," he grunted and pulled himself up. "I can do this."

Inch by inch, he continued his ascent up the pipe. The faint cackling of the hyenas still drifted intermittently from the building, encouraging him to press on. The metal tube groaned and wobbled with each shift of his body. He could only hope that he would make it to the top before the whole thing breaks free and topples over.

"Easy… Easy… Ah ha!" Seth grinned triumphantly as his left paw finally settled on the edge of the roof. He gave a good hard pull, worked the rest of his arm over the lip and soon rolled over the top, tumbling onto his back in exhaustion. He laid there for a moment, panting as he stared up at the night sky. The thought of just passing out right there was strong, but he still had work to do. "Okay. Let's do this."

He abruptly sat back up, and surveyed the roof. Off towards the far end was a doorway to the stairwell, but even better was the set of skylights, with light glowing from one that was left ajar. Stoutwell crouched low and crept towards the source of light, hoping this wasn't all in vain. The sight he saw within, however, did not disappoint.

The warehouse should have been emptied out, but instead he saw boxes still stacked around the place, unmarked. A trio of hyenas were at work, packing and sorting cellophane bundles into more boxes. They were females, 'big gals' as Old Red put it.

"What're they wearing? Dust masks? Rubber gloves? What the heck are they shipping?" Seth mused to himself as he reached for his phone. This needed to be recorded as evidence, and he figured the camera's zoom might get him a better look at what this was all about.

"Honestly, if you told me we'd be doin' this kind of business, Pris, I would've suggested hirin' more guys," one hyena said to the other she called 'Pris'.

"Doin' fine on our own," Pris gruffly replied.

"Yeah, but, what if we catch more of Big's stooges sniffin' around-"

"I said we're doin' fine, Maria!" Pris barked back. "I have my guy watchin' out for us, and he'll take care of any trouble. Just like that last time." Seth's nose scrunched up at that last part. "Hey Cherry, where's the packing tape?"

The one Pris addressed as Cherry peered around their work area and lazily shrugged, "I dunno, left it by the plants, I guess."

"Plants?" Seth whispered to himself.

"Well then make yourself useful an' go get it!" Pris snarled at Cherry and gave her a swift kick to her backside.

"Well I guess we know who's in charge…" Seth muttered to himself as she crept around the skylight's opening to get a better view of where Cherry was heading. Watching through the phone's screen, he panned the camera along with her, and slowly an area filled with hydroponic equipment came into view. "Whoa, what is that? A grow op'?"

He broke away from Cherry and gave a pass over the whole setup. Rows and rows of trays and lamps, filled with a strange plant. Strange, but familiar. Like he had seen it before in passing. He slid his fingers across the screen to zoom in closer.

They were flowers. Rows and rows of flowers, all with violet petals and yellow pistils. The first thought that came to mind were the violets his father used to buy for his mom, but these weren't the same, they were something else he saw elsewhere.

At the market? The bar? The precinct? The academy?

And then it hit him. Hit him so hard he nearly dropped his phone.

"Great Secretariat's Ghost. It's howlers. They're shipping night howlers."

"Got it!" Cherry called out, holding a roll of tape over her head. Seth immediately snapped out of his state of shock. This was big. Really big. At the academy they educated all new recruits on the raising use of night howlers as a recreational drug since the Bellwether Incident, but all that had ever been reported were cases of minor growing operations, stuff for personal and local use. What he saw here, however, was an operation big enough to turn a chunk of the city savage.

"I gotta get this to Atkins, pronto," he murmured, turning off the recording with one paw, and digging for the detective's business card with the other. There was no knowing how long until this contraband would be picked up by whoever was distributing it; if he went all the way back to the station to present the evidence, it could be gone by the time they got back.

The card somehow got buried deep in his pocket, caught under his other personal effects, but eventually he produced the card with a soft and satisfied "gotcha." This feeling was short lived, though, as at the moment he also heard the dull plastic rattle of his pill bottle coming free from the same pocket. His eyes went wide as the orange bottle tumbled down onto the rim of the skylight, bounced off the edge, and fell to the warehouse floor, where it hit with a loud clatter.

"What was that?" Pris asked with a cocked ear. "Maria, check it out."

Seth scrambled to get everything else back into his pockets; his eyes were zipping all over the area for a place to hide, but he couldn't see anything that would work. He glanced down for a second to see Maria poking around for the source of the noise; time was running short. The pipe was out of the question, as they'd be waiting for him before he was halfway down, and unlocked or not, the rooftop entrance would only get him caught as well. He looked back at Maria to see that she had found his pills and she was looking around the area quizzically, trying to sort out where these pills came from. Seth breathed deep and snapped out his telescopic baton. If he was getting out of here, his only option could be to catch them off guard, and bolt before they knew what happened. He had to act now.

By the time Maria looked up, she was faced with the sight of Seth's body, rapidly rushing at her head. She barely yelped before the weight of him caused her to crumple to the ground in a furry heap.

"What the hell?!" Pris was the first to react, taking off after the fleeing raccoon. He twisted around and flung his baton at her in a desperate attempt to trip his pursuer. The metal rod twirled towards her and ended up tangled between her legs, sending Pris crashing snout-first into the hard floor with a pained cry.

Cherry still remained standing and was racing his way. Seth tried to make a break for the service elevator he saw to his left, but she managed to cut him off and herd him towards the hydroponics, where he slid through an open space under a row of growing trays. The trays shuddered as the weight of Cherry's body slammed into them. She lunged over the top, futilely lashing her claws out at where she had expected him to emerge, but found nothing but an open garbage bag that was partly stuffed with their product.

"Wait... Where'd he go?"

Taking advantage of her confusion, Seth darted back out the way he came, scampered up her body, and onto her head. Cherry reared back and tried to shake him off, but Seth held tightly with both feet and one of his paws; the other clenched a bundle of violet flowers. With one swift motion, he shoved the plants into her mouth, and held her mouth shut while she thrashed about, until he was finally tossed to the ground. Not wanting to stick around for the results, he made haste back towards the elevator, leaving the sounds of Cherry hacking and choking behind him.

His heart was pounding, and his lungs felt dry and stripped. This whole time doing desk duty had really put him out of shape, but somehow he still managed to out-run the three of them, and the proverbial home plate of the elevator came closer and closer in reach. All that was left to do was close its gate, radio for backup, and hope that they don't beat him to the bottom. It felt like smooth sailing from here, but the illusion was quickly shattered as he was snatched by the back of his collar and hoisted into the air.

"Gotcha, you little trash panda!" He was spun around and brought face to face with a scowling Pris. She licked some blood that dripped from her nose, and growled at him.

"Is he some kinda cop or somethin'?" Maria asked while limping over to check out the captive raccoon. "Wasn't your guy supposed to-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have a little chat with him 'bout this."

"So what do we do with this guy?"

"Well, I dunno 'bout you, but…" An evil sneer crept across her face, and with a bright flash she whipped out a flick-knife. "I've been lookin' to get me a new toothpick."

The two ladies started to snicker as Pris waved the blade close to Seth's waist. Normally the idea of forced castration would've had him panicked, but he just couldn't help but notice that her knife looked a lot like the ones Marlon used to sell. Every connection seemed to be right here. Everything except for why and how Marlon died of an OD in a different neighborhood.

"Any last words, 'coon?" The sensation of the cold blade being pressed against his cheek pulled Seth out of his little deductive state and back into the moment at hand. He glanced between the two women, and the briefly over at Cherry, who's coughing was starting to sound like laughter.

"Hah?" He turned back to them, feigning a confused look on his face. Pris and Maria glared at him, while Cherry's laughter seemed to increase.

"I said," Pris leaned in closer, "any last-" Cherry's cackling grew so loud that Pris stopped and angrily turned at her. "What the hell is so damn funny- Oh shit."

Cherry was on all fours; tongue dangling, teeth bared, and staring at the three of them with blood in her eyes. She had gone savage.

Pris immediately tossed Seth aside and fled for cover. Maria, however, wasn't so quick to react, and hardly turned to flee before Cherry had pounced on her. Seth dashed for the elevator, blocking out the shrieks and cries for help that came from Maria as she was being mauled. A warm sensation tingled on his old scares as the sounds behind him called back painful memories of the night he was attacked.

Red.

'There's no fox, just keep going!'

Claws.

Teeth.

'There's no fox. There's no fox. There's-'

Suddenly he could hear the wild hyena barrelling down on him, and foxes became the least of his worries. He took to his fans and feet to speed up, but he could still feel her hot breath rushing against his tail. The moment his hands touched the inside of the elevator, he tumbled over and slammed the gate shut, closing it just seconds before Cherry could leap at him. She clawed and bit at the gate, snarling with rage, while Seth edged towards the control box and hit the 'down' button. The elevator rumbled to life, and as it started its slow decent, he slumped to the floor, wheezing. Out of habit he reached for his pills, but then he recalled they were left behind with the whole mess back there, so instead he retrieved his radio with an unsteady hand.

"C-come in. Do you read me?" He relaxed the radio's button for a moment and pressed down again. "This is Officer S-stoutwell, do you read?"

For a tense moment, it was silent.

"Loud and clear, officer. This is dispatch. Over."

"R-reporting a, ah… D-drug operation on one-one-three-eight, c-corner of Tillandsia Street and, uh, Greensea Lane. Requesting b-backup. Three suspects. One with possible injuries. Another… savage. Over."

"Come again. Did you say 'savage'? Over."

"Affirmative. Over."

The radio went silent. Seth sat there, holding his breath as the elevator continued down the second floor. The rumble of machinery was matched by the beating of his heart.

"Backup is on its way, officer. Over."

Seth sighed with relief as he tucked away the radio. He was in the homestretch now; all he had to do at this point was get outside and wait for his colleagues to arrive. He picked himself up and watched the second floor pass by. The noises of the fourth floor had faded away, and all that was left now was an empty silence, like everything outside the elevator had gone still.

His descent ended with a curt and heavy rumble, and he slowly slid the gate open and carefully peered around the area. It was practically empty, just a few scattered boxes and packing materials. Still, he kept close to the ground and scuttled quietly towards the exit, making sure to avoid drawing any further attention.

"Let's hope you only lock one way…" Seth closed his eyes as he gripped the door handle and gave it a turn. His prayers were answered by a soft click and the fresh air of outside drifted through the open gap.

Stepping outside, Seth could see the flashing red and blue of a parked cruiser, just outside the lot's fence. His eyes took a second to adjust to the change in lighting, but when they did, he saw the small figure of a koala bear standing a few meters away from him.

"Officer Qantas? You got here fast." Something felt off. "…Where's Codler?"

"Right here, you little prick." He was suddenly shoved to the ground from behind. Codler pinned him down with his knee and wrestled Seth's hands behind his back. "Just had to keep playing cop, huh?" Codler hissed in his ear as he closed a pair of hand-cuffs around Seth's wrists.

"I'm sorry, Stoutwell." Qantas murmured.

"Save your sorrys," Codler snarked. "He won't need them for long."

It was at this moment the door burst open again, and Pris stumbled out, beat up and bloody. "Where the hell were you?! You were supposed to keep an eye out for creeps like him!"

"Sorry," Codler said to her, coolly. "We saw him sneaking around, didn't think he got inside." The sudden calmness in his voice made Seth uneasy. "But after we got the call from dispatch, we figured we'd help you out of here." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Codler reaching for his tranq gun. "…The other girl, did she make it?"

"I dunno… She, uh- She got tore up pretty bad."

"You never told them who you had on the take, right?" He heard a couple clicks, and that was when he realized what Codler was doing.

"What? No, why would-" She was stopped short in her words as a tranq dart flew into her neck. At first she seemed quiet with surprise, but then her throat started to convulse as she strained to force words out, but only chocked gasps came through. Pris clenched at her chest, and dropped to the ground. Her eyes were bulging and bloodshot; foam bubbled and spilled out of her tensely shut mouth. Her whole body was shaking violently, and then she suddenly went still.

Seth and Qantas stared silently at Pris' lifeless body. It was the first time Seth had seen a mammal overdose on tranquilizers, but he had a feeling this wasn't a first for Qantas, or Codler.

"Alright, we gotta move quick before the others get here," Codler said to his partner. "So lets get the story straight; we were in the area, got the call for help, and when we arrived, this individual," he waved his gun at the dead hyena, "lunged at us in a rage. I reacted and used my sidearm, but in the panic I forgot to swap the elephant charge for a mid-range mammal charge, which resulted in an accidental fatali- Hey, are you paying attention?!"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah." Qantas shook off the daze he was in. "But… What about him?"

"What about him?" Codler snorted. "Well we still have a savage upstairs, don't we?" He stalked over to Pris' body and snatched up a pair of keys from her pocket. "Maybe he didn't get away after radioing it in. Maybe when backup arrives, they find the dumb schmuck got himself eaten alive."

"You couldn't possibly-"

"I am. We had a good thing going with these girls, and this little dumpster-diver," he gave a kick to Seth's ribs, "just had to bungle it up. Didn't you?" He leaned in close to Seth's face and snarled. "Now we gotta clean up your mess and hope they don't pin it on us. C'mon Qantas, I'll get the door."

As Codler walked away, Seth looked over at Qantas. He could see that the koala didn't want to go through with this; the expression on his face showed he was torn between two bad situations. "Please," he pleaded, "don't do this."

"I-I'm sorry," Qantas croaked, "I can't go to jail. I have a kid…"

"This isn't who you are."

"I, uh… I don't-"

"C'mon Qantas!" Codler yelled.

"Please."

"C'mon!"

Qantas tugged at his fur and paced around in frustration. Seth knew he had to push him just a bit further to make the right choice.

"Qantas… If you do this, do you really think it'll be normal again? Can you look at your kid and-"

"For god's sake, Qantas, stop listening to him and help me out here!"

"No."

Codler let go of the door and stared hard at his partner. "What did you say?"

"This has gone too far, Codler."

"It's gone too far when I say it has gone too far- Whoa, hey!" Codler backed up as Qantas drew his own sidearm on his partner. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What I should've done in the first place." And with a pull of the trigger, he shot a dart into the coyote's shoulder.

"Qantas, you cowardly little-" Codler dropped to the ground before he could finish. All Seth could think was that he got off lucky, considering what happened to Pris.

Qantas' gun dropped to the ground, and he soon followed suit, dropping to his kees.

"You, ah, did the right thing," Seth tried to reassure him, but the koala just bitterly laughed.

"Be the first time in a while." He then got back to his feet and proceeded to unlock the cuffs on Stoutwell. "I needed the money, you know? My son has- He has a condition. Doctors in the Rainforest District couldn't help him; we had to put him in a hospital in Downtown. And my wife, well you know how mom's are, they just can't leave-" He paused and helped Seth to his feet. "I transferred to precinct one so we could be closer to him, but, uh, living here isn't cheap. And the medical bills didn't help…"

Seth could figure it out from there. "So when Codler came to you with promises of money on the side, you took it."

"It seemed harmless at first. We'd take in overtime; watch the area; warn them if there was any heat coming… But then there was trouble."

"Marlon? The lynx?"

Qantas solemnly nodded. "Yeah. He got a call from her; apparently they spotted this guy snooping around the building, picked the lock or something, and they were spooked about word getting out about what they were doing."

Seth jerked his head at the warehouse. "Did you know what was in there?"

"No," the koala shook his head, "figured it was pot or something, but I guess it was howlers, huh?" Seth nodded. "Christ." Qantas sighed and sat down on the pavement. "We had, uh, spent the whole night trying to track this guy down. Eventually we spotted him cutting through an alley, and that's when-"

"Codler shot him with the wrong dart, gave him an overdose of ketamine."

"Yeah."

"And he planted the drugs on him… Wait," he scrunched up his face and cocked his head at Qantas, "where'd he get the heroin?"

Qantas forced a weak smile and shrugged. "He needed the money for something too; I think you can figure it out." Stoutwell nodded knowingly; Codler had used his own stash to cover his ass.

"And the address I found in the dumpster, Codler wasn't looking for it, he was hiding it there, wasn't he?"

"You found that?" Qantas chuckled. "What am I saying; how else could you find this place without it? Yeah. The kid still had it gripped in his hand when he died. Codler should have burned it, but… I'm glad you found it." He looked like he was on the verge of tears. "I don't know how much longer I could've lived with being a part of that."

Off in the distance, the faint wail of sirens could be heard; backup was finally here. Qantas just sat there and stared at the ground and all Seth could think to do was place a hand on his shoulder and tell him "It's going to be okay."

"It won't. But thank you."

The next half an hour was a flurry of blues and whites, as the street in front of the lot filled up with all sorts of emergency vehicles. EMTs carried away the unconscious body of Codler, and the near-critical Maria; while the coroner bagged up Pris.

Cherry was the star attraction of the evening, as everyone gawked at the still savage hyena being lead out with several restraining poles snared around her neck. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but she seemed to be staring him with hunger and rage, even when they closed the doors of the paddy wagon, she was looking right at him.

He was still watching them escort Qantas into the back of a cruiser when Seth felt his own comeuppance arrive in the form of a looming, horned shadow that cast over him. Humid buffalo breath puffed down his back in a seething rhythm; he didn't have to turn around to know that he was dead meat.

"Is this how you intended to convince me that you can be trusted out in the field? By conducting an unsanctioned investigation and getting a suspect killed; possibly two?" Seth turned to explain, but he found that Bogo already had a hand out to silence him. "And what if things went worse? You could have wound up dead and missing, while they would've moved the whole operation to someplace else."

"But sir-"

"But nothing! I gave you a chance, and made it very clear that you needed time to prove yourself to me, and instead you just went off doing whatever you wanted. Did you think that your family ties gave you special treatment? Or did you think 'well it worked for Officer Hopps in the TV movie; maybe it'll work for me too'? Well I have news for you, Officer Stoutwell, life doesn't reward being insubordinate!"

"If I could just explain, China-sh-" Seth quickly clapped both paws over his mouth the second he realized he was saying it, but it was too late; the damage was done. Bogo first reared back in shock, then leaned in close and scowled a hole deep into him.

"Insubordinate, and churlish."

That was it. He was done. Him; his career in the ZPD; everything; dead. He almost wished that Cherry had finished the job. Even being made a eunuch by Pris felt favorable to this moment in his short and sad stint with the ZPD.

"Come on; take it easy on the guy. It was my fault anyway."

Seth and Bogo looked over and saw Detective Atkins standing there, lighting up a cigarette. Bogo stood back to his full height and shot the king cheetah a withering glare. "Explain."

"Well, you see, Officer Stoutwell here," he gestured to Seth with the lit smoke, "fine officer that he is, noticed some, ah, inconsistencies and, uh, glaring omissions in the report on the death of one Marlon Atria. He brought them to my attention and I thought it was worth following up on, wasn't that right?" He cocked an eyebrow at Seth as Bogo turned to him for confirmation.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he tried to play along, "I brought this before Detective Atkins this morning." It wasn't entirely a lie, after all.

"So anyway, since I've been bogged down in so many cases lately, I figured 'hey, what the heck, give the kid a little field experience'." Atkins playfully smiled and shrugged at Bogo. "I had no idea he was under some kind of evaluation process, or whatever. And I definitely didn't know he'd end up wading head-first into a drug ring. All of that? Completely on me."

Stoutwell just blinked, he couldn't believe this detective was taking the blame for him, let alone that Bogo would actually buy it.

"So you're taking responsibility for this whole mess?"

"That's right," Atkins took a drag on his cigarette.

"And credit for the arrest too, I suppose?"

Atkins smiled and exhaled a gust of smoke. "Doesn't hurt."

Bogo looked between Atkins and Seth for a few moments and sighed. "Fine then." He started to walk off, but turned around and jutted a finger at Seth. "Don't think you're getting off easy because of him. You will learn to respect my orders, one way or another."

"Y-yes chief." He knew he was safe for now, but the dread of what would come tomorrow still lurked in the back of his mind. Seth moved his attention to Atkins, who was sucking the last bits of life out of his smoke. "Why'd you take the heat for me?"

"C'mon Stoutwell," Atkins tossed his spent cigarette to the asphalt and stomped it out, "I'll give you a ride home."

He followed him to an old beat-up boat of a car, and hopped into the passenger side. While waiting for the engine to sputter to life, Atkins rolled down his window and lit up another smoke. As the car pulled out and headed down the road Seth wanted to press him for an answer, but decided to let it pass, and sat back while the detective turned on the radio.

"—and three presumed dead. A fire in Tundratown resulted in the destruction of a Soles bookstore; Chief Langford of the ZFD confirmed there were no injuries or fatalities. And in other news, Mayor Swinton will be meeting with members of the city council and the department of justice to discuss the T.A.M.E. Act, a controversial bill created with the intent of reducing repeat offenders among predators-"

"No matter how dark it seems to get, the sun will always rise tomorrow," Atkins interjected over the radio chatter. "Never forget that and you might just stay sane in this business."

Stoutwell spent the rest of the ride staring out the window; watching the evening skyline; waiting and hoping that he would be right.


	6. Epilogue

"A lucky skunk. C'mon, I thought you were going to come up with something hard, not leftovers from the Junior Ranger Scouts joke book."

"Fine," Nick rolled his eyes, "How about you tell one."

Seth took a sip of his coffee and smirked. "Okay, why do vixens make great sailors?"

"Wow," Nick reeled back in surprise. "Are you sure you're not specist against foxes?"

"Sorry," Seth snickered, "Most jokes I know are from my bar tending days. I guess they can be a little offensive."

"You better watch out for that, this is a family friendly operation we're running here." Nick swished the remaining dregs of his coffee and tossed the paper cup into a bin outside Seth's office. If someone told Seth a month ago that the high-point of his day would be trading jokes with a fox, he wouldn't believe them, but considering how he felt after last night, Nick's presence was a godsend; even if they still had to converse from opposite ends of the room. "Okay, I got one. What's invisible and smells like- Oh, hey Carrots."

"I can't believe you're telling that one again," Judy groaned as she walked into the Records & Documents office.

"I can't help it if it's funny because it's tru- Oof!" Nick was cut short by the sharp jab of Judy's elbow.

"I heard about what happened, Seth," Judy gave him a sympathetic look. "Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah," he reassuringly nodded. "Yeah... That is, I'm worried about what'll happen to Qantas, but I'll be fine, I guess."

"Don't sweat it," Nick shrugged. "Getting on Bogo's bad side is like a rite of passage around here, isn't that right Fluff?"

Judy snorted and playfully shook her head. "Anyway, if you ever need someone to help you out, we're here for you."

"Thanks guys," Seth smiled. "You know, all things aside, I think it's going to get better for me. After all, the sun will still rise tomo-"

The office's intercom suddenly stopped him with a loud buzz.

"Um, Officer Stoutwell," Clawhauser's voice crackled through the little speaker, "Chief Bogo wanted me to tell you that you're on drunk tank duty for the next month. Starting now. You, ah… You might want to get a bucket and sponge."

Seth's smile crinkled into a grimace. "So, ah, about that help you were offering..."

* * *

End Case #1


End file.
